Why you can feel completely alone in a room full of people who love you

In the living room, when everyone had come to wish me; extended family, friends, cousins. I was working that night, but I tried to keep the sessions cleverly spread out or rather skewed in the day so that I could make the best of both worlds, having the evening to bring in my birthday and the next as I planned as an off. The little workaholic side of me regretted taking a day off, but a part of me was smirking around how smartly I planned my birthday week to get as many off days without it being counted as a leave.

It was that time of the year where I cooked meals my friends would love, trying all fancy, modern Indian perhaps. The fondue was in the microwave, ready to be turned around again and again until the yellow coloured cheese oozed out of it. The misal on the stove. Aam panna ready in the fridge. Plates and cutlery kept outside properly. And me, furious on the sofa in my living room, my eyes closed, brows furrowed, lips forming a little oval shape on my face. As usual my legs go up and down, up and down, almost competing with the speed of a building elevator. I guess I would give it to my legs for winning this one.

Until the bell rang. Ding dong.

I saw it was Ani at the door. I act too unbothered. I try to get myself back, broadening my lips wide with excitement to tell her that I made her favourite cuisine with a twist. I ask her if she wants to wait for the others. I am curious but almost in irritation ask her about the whereabouts of Zen, Ivy, Gari and Viv. She rolled her eyes and said they are on the way, Ivy has lost her way on maps and is forever looping in circles to reach here, and Zen is just parking the car.

It was an hour later when Ivy came up and almost 10 minutes to midnight when Gari and Zen made it. Gari comes up and mentions how Viv can't make it. "Don't even ask how much drama happened." I roll my eyes followed by a quick smile. Gari's social anxiety mode on, to find out what "deets" I had been sharing with Ani and Ivy.

I look at her, meet her eyes and say, later. It's not a good time and I am feeling too shy about it. I do remember in that moment the difficulty of even mentioning what happened to the other two.

My cheeks becoming red. Forehead frowning. Lips pursed and the voice in me goes squeaky. I tell them a bit, then all of the whole. I get into the specifics and as they probe me, the little girl in me was shy. Was worried. And left feeling abandoned before anyone had even moved. They look up to me excited and I look inside me, fucked up. What did I do, why did I do it. Their minds running ahead, enquiring into the future and mine stuck in the incident, in the fear of uncertainty. What would this cost me. I feel a tug in my chest. I try and I try harder to feel and be where Ani and Ivy were. But I couldn't. And yet I did an excellent job of keeping it away from them.

My face almost in disguise, confusing even myself, the shock of what I can do, made everyone believe that I felt so heard and understood. Hesitating to share the part of me who felt like Hans Christian Andersen's princess, feeling something hard that bruised me all evening. My mind and soul hunching, all black and blue. It was quite dreadful.

Luckily enough for me, I got distracted by the doorbell. I saw Ibi bring in a sash, entering with her husband, my cousin. She made me wear the tiara with Happy Birthday on it. Following her were all my paternal aunts and uncles, my parents and sister. They excitedly sang and wished me but there were still 5 minutes for the clock to go 12.

It was one of those moments where every minute felt terribly long. Not because people were not having fun, but because I was feeling loud, chaotic and alone. The loneliness crept in along with annoyance. My friends in unity like a boardroom meeting, discussing Ivy's work and how terrible it got, Ivy loud enough to take the space and the stage, and me getting quieter each moment, helping myself understand. Maybe I am just the black sheep. Maybe this is what adulting is.

They were there in that moment, everyone present under one roof, for me. And my skin bleeding every time someone spoke. Feeling like when will I have this boardroom meeting? Wasn't it supposed to be my birthday? My boardroom meeting.

Perhaps no one gets it. Not because they don't understand but because they can't relate to it. The little bit of losing my bandwidth. I felt alone. I was happy but I was angry. I was hurt and I wanted someone to come and hug me.

That's why you can feel completely alone in a room full of people who love you. It was never about being alone. Nobody did. Not because they didn't love me. But because I never told them I needed it.

It wasn't that they weren't enough. It was that I was carrying something they didn't have the map to. That my brain understands cues harder and differently; not abnormally. Just differently.

The loneliness explanation came to me next birthday.

Where I didn't sit on the sofa but purposely made myself late. Was getting ready when my friends were already on the way. I had prepared everyone to be on time because that's what I wanted. I wanted to be in control of everything. I didn't want Ivy to take up the space. I prepared my mind to keep the least of any expectations. I didn't make food; I ordered. Not because I don't love them or they had stopped, but because I was too scared to feel that again. To feel alone. To feel abandoned again. To long and beg for their attention on my birthday. Not that they weren't giving it to me, but my need around it had become twice as much. Heavy in a way I couldn't explain.

I had realised a few days earlier that I am needy. And needy differently from others, especially around my birthday.

But on the day itself, going with my friends surfing, almost trying to live by myself, wanting to be there for me, I was still avoiding getting hurt. Still acting unbothered from whatever might happen. Ivy again took up the space but not the stage this time. And me? I exited. Not in anger. But to maintain a boundary for myself. For the child in me who suddenly realised that these feelings weren't coming from the present at all, but from much earlier. From the past.

From the friends around me back then who made me yearn, beg, long for attention. Feeling left abandoned on my birthday. Can you imagine? A 14 year-old girl's birthday. Almost feeling like a father doing this to his child. And the feeling of not being given priority by my family; something that led to consequences a 14-year-old shouldn't have had to face.

So yes. I feel those feelings. And I pack them in a bag not to leave them or abandon them, but to contain them. To help myself lift off the weight when today it feels heavy. The aloneness from not having had the freedom, the liberty to prioritize what my teenager self wanted.

Autonomy, right?

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Written by Tanisha Sanghavi

Tanisha is a counselling psychologist and co-founder at Therapea, working with young adults on food-body relationships, attachment, and complex trauma. Work with Tanisha →