As a little girl, I didn’t know just how influential the people I surrounded myself with could be. Struggling in normal day to day conversations became my routine. No one gave me a handbook about what to do in social situations. No one told me I needed a handbook either.

At my elementary school, I had a very tight-knit group of friends. I was thankful for them because I hated starting conversations and at least with them I was included somewhere. They were the kind of friends that when the rule is that we can not throw snow, they all agreed that I should throw snow at them when they came down the slide because it would be more fun. After I protested because I have and always will be a rule follower, they all started to make fun of me for being too scared. Even though this type of mocking was a daily occurrence, I wanted to be like the rest of my friends because I thought that being just like them would mean I could be one of them. So naturally, I finally agreed to do it once. When one of my friends came down and I threw the snow as instructed, she walked off the slide in tears.

She yelled and yelled at me because I threw snow in her eyes. When she went to the teachers to turn me in, I told them she had asked me to, but of course, they all denied. The teachers who regulated recess decided I was at fault and I had to sit on the bench. I never wanted to sit on that bench again. Sitting on the bench watching my friends have just as much without me as they did with me, I was flooded with confusion about when I would finally matter. I really could have used a handbook.

In middle school, I struggled with talking to people. The method that I thought was best was to always bring extra candy in so I could offer it to the same people every day. My thinking was that this way we had a reason to talk. The response was not quite what I hoped for but it was better than nothing.

When we took our tests in band, we would go past the corner and play where the teacher could not see us so that she could not be biased. When it was my turn, I began to play with my already nervous shaking hands. I had wanted to do well since it was our first test. My fellow bandmates decided to come up behind me and whisper quiet enough where the teacher could not hear them, “Do you have any candy I could have, Elle?” while I was playing. The minute I heard that I stopped playing for a second but started again quickly when I remembered I was testing. I walked away from that playing test with tears threatening to pour out of my eyes.  But don’t worry, the next day I brought them the candy because they were my friends. I saw myself the same way my friends did, the girl who brought candy. A handbook really could have helped me avoid this.

During junior high, there was one night where I sat in my room in tears. Why couldn’t I make friends and leave the background? Why couldn’t I start conversations as easily as other people? I was so sick of being with a group of people and feeling like I was an extra in a movie who didn’t get to participate in the conversation. I would watch the words flow together in front of me amazed by how well it all worked. It looked so simple, but I couldn’t do it. All my past experiences told me that I belonged where I was: alone in the background. As I laid down and cried to sleep, I hoped that eventually, I would find a handbook to help me. A handbook that would tell me why I was struggling to do such a normal thing.

I woke up with red puffy cheeks. That day, my family friend, who goes to a different school, came over and she was invited to a party late that night. My parents had to drop her off and I decided I would walk her up to the door because any chance of conversation I got, I took. To my surprise, the girl who opened the door went to my school. She somehow recognized me even though I had not recognized her. She introduced herself as Kate.

The next day at school, she approached me.

“I love this sweatshirt where did you get it?” I was extremely uncomfortable, but I still replied by telling her I didn’t know. She told me, “Well tell me after you find out. Anyway, I have this huge math test today, any chance you understand the unit circle?” I began to teach her what I knew and we discovered that we had a lot more in common than just my family friend. We had the same sense of humor, style, classes, and fears. Without noticing it, I was the one asking the questions and carrying the conversation. This was foreign to me, but it felt as natural as breathing. Why couldn’t I do this before and why now?

Later that same day, she approached me. She asked why we hadn’t met before. That was when I told her about all my failed social attempts in the past. She sat me down and told me that it was not my fault that I struggled with this. She claimed that the only reason I could not understand this basic skill was because the people around me weren’t willing to help; They let me struggle. They let me believe that my place was in the background. She finally gave me all the lessons I needed from the handbook. She gave me a chance to not be in the background.

She ended our conversation in a way where I could start a one tomorrow easily. She reminded me to ask about the sweatshirt. It was such a small, simple thing to say but it made me feel like I belonged. I wasn’t an extra in the movie, I didn’t need candy, I didn’t need to change myself, I just needed to simply walk up and begin talking. Kate made it so easy for me to start a conversation tomorrow and I had faith that she would help me keep it going. I rushed home and asked about the sweatshirt. After retrieving my answer, I fell asleep with a smile on my face.

I woke up with hope for once. I got up, got dressed, and walked over to the mirror in my room. I froze when I saw the girl looking back at me. I had red puffy eyes that looked as though I had cried myself to sleep and I had put on the sweatshirt. Maybe I was just really tired and that’s why I look like this. I walk over to my phone so I could check the time. When I opened my phone, it hit the ground before reality finally hit me. The date suggested that it was the morning after I had cried myself to sleep due to my struggles. I stare at my shaking hands realizing that I am still that lonely girl who only dreamed of being social. I felt tears race down my cheek and I grabbed onto the sweatshirt tighter remembering how excited I was to have someone to talk to. But, apparently, I still need to find my Kate. I need to find my handbook.

When my family friend came over, I got this weird sense of deja vu. I thought that perhaps I would be lucky and my dream would come true. I waited for my family friend to bring up the fact that she had a party tonight. I waited and waited. I didn’t dare to ask her because I still didn’t know how. Eventually, she looked at the clock and said she had to go. I was bouncing in the car waiting for the moment where we pulled up to Kate’s house. The car finally stopped and I looked out the window. My heart skipped a beat when I noticed that it was my family friends house, not Kate’s. I waved goodbye and thought to myself that I better get comfortable in the background. My handbook was nowhere in sight. I had been searching for years, and no one has yet to help me get out of the background.