vivalavegan-blog1

[vivalavegan-blog1]

Friends are weird for me. When I was on the verge of turning 17 and decided to relocate to New Zeland from the UK, there was nothing particularly wrong with my life. In fact, I had the best group of friends I had ever had. Sincere, loving and really awesome people. I was an awkward and unlikable 11 to 14 year old, and became tolerable at age 15. It took me those 4 years to build meaningful relationships with people. The day after I had ended a phone call with my dad that had been confirmation that I was accepting his invitation to live with him, his wife and three children in New Zealand, my Nanna was sat in my living room with me. She grabbed my hand and said 'Elizabeth Wendy, you are not good at making friends. Not like your sister. People don't like you. If you go, you'll be so lonely.' My mum didn't defend me from this statement, but rather nodded in agreement. I assured them I would be fine, more determined than ever to pursue something different. My farewell party saw me surrounded by family and my really amazing group of friends. That day, I cried the hardest I've ever cried in my entire life. Landing in New Zealand with hair faded into a weird reddish pink, a poorly placed lip piercing freshly on my face because my mum couldn't object anymore, I was excited. I had 4 months until I began in school in year 13, chuffed because I was skipping year 12 altogether. No worries though, I took 14 exams in year 11 and had been fasttracked, I was smart and surely could handle it. My stepmum introduced me to a girl called Lisa. A girl who really enjoyed wearing shorts and a foundation 2 shades too dark for her face. She was the sister of my kid brother's friend and made a concerted effort to acclimate me. She had friends that were 'into cars' and she was incredibly nice to me. We never truly ever had a good time together, but both dutifully spent out summer in the other's company. After she forced me into a car with a drunk driver, I didn't call her again. My year in high school was hell. In England, I adored school. It was challenging, regulated and had standards. Here, no one cared if I showed up for class, and I was no longer one of the smartest girls in school. I was placed in the international tutor group, feeling too foreign to relate to the kiwi girls, and too assimilated for the transfer students. My clique in the UK was really just an impeccable mix of people from other circles that meshed really well when we all came together. All bright, and all with something to offer. People I had collected from my awkward teen years, that had come to respect my idiosyncrasies. There was one girl in my tutor group who thought my purple hair and lip ring coupled with my overuse of floral prints were cool. Tyler was my first and only legitimate friend from that school. We became best friends immediately, spent our 18th birthday in Australia drinking tequila and not seeing the Opera House. We stole her mother's expensive red wine and mixed it with warm orange juice, and visited Auckland where her father lived, snuck into bars when we were underage and had danced heavily. Tyler got a boyfriend I hated and I rolled my eyes every time she mentioned him. I was so jealous. I hadn't had a boyfriend since I was 14 and didn't like his insipid, juvenile face. She was the coolest person I'd ever known, and far too good for him. But more than that, I was extremely lonely. My relationship with my mother had become incredibly strained, her once weekly phone calls dwindling into monthly, brief updates. It was painful to be the third wheel. He encroached on our carefree, vivacious sisterhood and I resented the poor kid for existing at all. At a party, I met Campbell, my now fiancé. Tyler broke up with her boyfriend and things were the way they were supposed to be. We got drunk every weekend, with the same people, went to Auckland on school nights and dragged ourselves to class with raging hangovers the next day. Things I would never have dreamed of doing in England. I failed year 13 and didn't care. My dad and my stepmum were concerned, but my mum barely spoke to me at that point. My sister told me my leaving had triggered abandonment issues and didn't talk to me much either. I stopped receiving Christmas presents and birthday cards. I had been an A grade student in England and had never studied or revised for an exam. But the schooling system was bizarre and poorly clarified. No teacher ever cared to tell me how I was doing in New Zealand and I was more concerned with having fun than anything else. I entered the work force, Tyler moved to Auckland. I was successful at work, getting a jewellery sales role as my first proper job. I made more money than anyone else, but was a horrible team mate to have. I prized my own success and required constant praise. After six months of being socially inept, I realigned my behaviour and forged friendships, even moving in with a co-worker. I was poached for A job at Specsavers, where I was a little weasel and learned some hard lessons. The girls were pleasant, but excluded me because I wasn't mainstream enough. I was ostracized so badly after the store owner used me to spy on my colleagues whilst simultaneously selling me out. I have not remained friends with anyone from either of those jobs. Everything either ended in a firey blaze or faded slowly into the background. I now live in Auckland, and Tyler is here but our friendship lives in the past. Her new group are lovely and she has evolved so much as a person. I do not have another real friendship to my name and my anxiety cripples me when I think of how she dutifully invites me to socialise within her circle. I hate myself and inability to forge lasting It is not through lack of trying that I find myself here. Every friendship I have had has involved me putting in all the work, logistically and emotionally and I am so very tired. I have short, fun bursts with people who seem to like, but not love me.