Nearing the end of senior year, I am constantly surrounded by my peers lamenting the end of their childhood, tearing up over nostalgic content and being scared of the changes they are about to experience. Most of all, I hear people worry about moving away from their families and losing touch with their friends. 

I, meanwhile, am oddly numb. I think I’ve gotten too used to relying on myself. 

I realize that I am not actually alone; I have my parents who have always been there for me, my extended family and my friends. However, I’ve always felt like I’ve been stuck on the outside of meaningful relationships. 

My parents both moved away from their home countries long before they had me. As such, it was only ever the three of us in the United States and the rest of my family on the opposite side of the world. I was the American cousin whenever I visited, the grandchild who they saw once every couple of years, the kid who struggled with their languages and their customs and would disappear back to her own world in a few weeks. While I knew they loved me, it was difficult to see everyone else get along in everyday life when I had to focus on bringing back a sense of familiarity that I worked so hard to achieve the last time I visited. I stumbled through expressing my thoughts in a tongue I was unused to relying on. I accidentally came off as rude when I did not know how to toast my elders the correct way. They understood, but I still felt like I didn’t belong. As much as I loved seeing my family, in a way, it was exhausting and alienating. 

I always wondered what it would be like to have a big family like my relatives do. On top of being one of the only family members in the U.S., I am an only child. My parents were wonderful growing up, but it did not compare to having someone around who was closer to my own age to bother me or entertain me — to simply be there. Instead, I learned how to be by myself. I took up hobbies like reading, sewing, drawing, roller skating and more. I could even occupy myself by staring out the window and getting lost in my own thoughts for hours. Even now, I never struggle with boredom when left to my own devices. 

While I had friends when I was younger to hang out with, they never lasted long. I moved around quite a bit back then — in my life I’ve lived in New Zealand, England, two places in the Bay Area, La Jolla and finally Carmel Valley. I got used to being very flexible with my life and my friendships, with leaving things behind and starting anew. While I got really good at making friends, I never learned how to get close with them — for most of my life, I didn’t confide in them or believe in my heart of hearts that they would always be there for me. 

My parents have expressed their admiration for my resilience — how I “take the knocks of life with a shrug and move on without dwelling on them” — though they never pressured me to be this way. And while I admire this part of myself too, I worry whether I truly am resilient, or simply jaded. Perhaps I am too good at letting things go. Or at never starting them in the first place. 

I am finding now that my excuses don’t work anymore. I’ve lived in the same place for over six years now, and I’ve known the entire time that I would stay through high school. No big move lingered over the horizon, ready to rip me from my friends. Even those friends that I have moved away from in the past are not truly lost to me. While I haven’t seen my best friend from first grade in over a decade, we stayed pen pals and I still have her email. Her family sends us Christmas cards every year without fail. And although I struggle to reconnect with my extended family at first, they always welcome me back with open arms and love me from afar. 

It’s been me all along, self-isolating. 

Even though I am okay where I am, holding people at arm’s length, maybe it is time for me to show some vulnerability and truly open up to others. I want to be close to others, I want to rely on people, I want to foster relationships worth missing. Maybe this personal perspective is a step forward. Maybe my increase in actual close friends this past year is another. Maybe I’m making a mountain out of a molehill and I have already been gradually, at my own pace, building these relationships with people over the last few years. 

Either way, I love my family and my friends. I am learning to put more faith in them, too.