The box of cheese and crackers

Random click from my gallery —2022 August  Somewhere in Negombo

When I started Grade 1, I didn’t have any friends. I honestly don’t remember anyone wanting to sit with me or share food with me. I’m not sure why. Even in nursery, I can’t really name anyone I was especially close to. I only remember a few names here and there. Maybe my parents knew I was lonely at school. There must have been signs. I often stayed home, saying I was sick.

My nursery teacher was lovely; she always made me feel like I was special to her. But Grade One was different. That teacher ignored me, and even now, thinking of her gives me an awful, stomach-turning feeling. I wasn’t a problematic kid, or so I think. I was a smart kid! I was on the general proficiency list and even won the prize for Buddhism that year. But I think she disliked me, for reasons I never understood, and my attendance ended up really low.

My dad once came up with a plan to help. He told me to take a box of cheddar and crackers to school and share them with the others. Cheese, especially cheddar, was pretty expensive back in 1996, so I know it must have been a sacrifice for my parents. But nobody accepted them. I ate the entire box myself and brought home the empty box. That idea failed. By Grade 3, I was overweight. :P (Still am, and sometimes I wonder if I have replaced friends with food. Gosh.)

I often wonder if making connections comes naturally to other people. Belongingness feels important for not feeling alone, but it’s not one big thing. It’s made of tiny little pieces. With some people, you only ever get halfway there. The full chunk never quite matches. Still, it’s interesting to search for those little bits that do. I’m not sure if we ever fully belong with anyone. Maybe that comes with age.

All my life, I’ve struggled with belonging. Just yesterday, I was among about 500 people and still felt disconnected. But for the most part, I was happy and not bothered by it. Maybe I’ve just trained myself to be okay with being alone. Survival tactic, I guess.

I’ve had friendships I truly valued, but as time went on, differences in thinking, values, and emotions created distance. I guess that’s just how life works. At this point, I feel like I can only be fully myself with two people, and maybe only one of them has really understood me completely.

So I wonder, when we talk about connection and belonging, are we chasing an illusion? Or are our views of relationships already coloured by what society expects of us?

Maybe relationships aren’t about finding someone to complete the picture, but about collecting the small pieces that fit, like savouring the cheese and crackers on my own, and learning to be satisfied with what we have.