I am one of six kids. Constant chaos filled our house. There was always a church service, a school event, or a sports game to rush to. Within the continuous craziness, the loudest voice was heard; all others were ignored. It was a game of survival. In this case, survival of the loudest. The noise level was unmatched. And yet, throughout my childhood and into adulthood, I never felt more alone. There were always people around. Privacy was a pipe dream, not a reality. Our house was the opening scene of Home Alone. And I was Kevin. Forgotten and left behind.
I became self-sufficient, in need of nothing. In need of no one. I didn’t ask for help. I didn’t need to. I knew how to find and get the things I needed. I could fend for myself at a very early age. I got pegged for being cynical, even the “black sheep” of the family, a stealthy child. (At times, that wasn’t entirely inaccurate. There was plenty of room for scheming when no one was looking.) I hid in plain sight. Being overlooked turned into my invisibility cloak. My superpower.
I gained independence rather than it being given to me or earned at a certain age or maturity level. What I didn’t realize then was that the less I needed, the less anyone thought to check on me. I mastered self-sufficiency. I just didn’t notice what it was costing me.
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