Boredom Strikes at Midnight

                 by Chidera Udeh 

‘To my mother, 

 

Thank you. You first showed me true love existed and when I no longer believed it did, you came again and showed me an adoration I have never felt. I can spend all my life chasing care and warmth, but one thing remains true: when the walls start to cave in, it is your voice, your touch, I crave the most.’

 

Chapter 1 - Main Character Syndrome 

 

For what it’s worth, I’ve never purported to be a relationship expert. Or any type of expert for that matter, but I believe I know more than most. On what grounds you might ask? Well, none. You see, anyone who I’ve engaged in even the most trivial conversations with all come to one common conclusion: Chidera has ‘main character syndrome’. The term syndrome might have you thinking that I do indeed have a condition you ought to worry about. However, I am pleased to confirm that is not the case. Main character syndrome is defined as ‘the phenomenon of people conceptualising themselves as the protagonists in their own story’, and the first time being branded as this was both a funny, yet very interesting experience. 

 

As a thinker, the first thing to do when being labelled with any term is to try and reason with said term. 22^nd birthday party. Black-tie themed. The whole of Thurrock attending. What was my first preparatory thought? Was it how to make the night fun for my guests? Nope. Maybe put a list together of all potential attendees? Way off it. My outfit? Warmer. When the idea of a gala was still a small figment of my very wild imagination, I needed to know ‘How do I stand out amongst the rest’. It wasn’t okay for me to just receive compliments on my smell, my smile, my suit. Standing out meant more to me on that day than anything. So, I went to work. First things first, delegate all menial tasks to my most trusted acquaintances. There was no time for distractions. Then, compile the reports, thank them for the job they had undertaken so far, and send them away with some more. Now the fun part: creating a strategy on how Chidera will stand out. It didn’t have to be expensive, or strenuous. It just had to be enough. I was the host, so a late entrance with all eyes on me seemed a good place to start. Add in some music and the plan was already halfway there. Proud of the progress, but it just needed something else to elevate a good thought, into a special one. Then it struck. I had it. Fast forward to the day of the event, I arrive looking, and feeling better than ever. Photographs being taking with my family upstairs, whilst the guests downstairs awaited my dramatic appearance. The walkout song is playing. That’s my cue. Are main character syndrome people allowed to feel nervous? I am proof that both can be possible. With relative ease, actually. This was the moment I longed for. Apart from one or two mishaps in the planning process, everything was oven ready. All I had to do was walk down the stairs and get the crowd going. Seems hard for some, but this was my bread and butter. Breath in, breath out. Showtime. Drunkenly, I waltzed down the stairs, and was met by an astonishing display. Cameras, all bearing flashlights, were entirely on me. The guests roared at my arrival. The music died down, but the screams of support continued. This was a black-tie event, so as expected the male guests were all pressed up in black suits. So, there I was, standing with my shiny loafers, black slim fit trousers that sat perfectly on the top of the shoe, all coming together with a pearly white blazer. That was it. My genius idea to stand out, the idea that caused me sleepless nights, was to simply change the colour of my blazer to contrast everyone else. It had the right amount of triviality, but it was met with a hefty dose of showboating. How did I feel that night? Well, I felt like the main character. Mission accomplished.

 

This is just one of the many ways I’ve portrayed the trait I am constantly described as. After establishing I am who they say, I began to wonder if anyone else also had this syndrome. And if so, how many? How many of us live in our own little world where we are our own movie star. Generally, telling someone they act as if they’re the main character is deemed insulting at times. That’s unfair. There is not a single behavioural trait that exists that doesn’t show up in a person once or twice. Believe it or not, we are all main characters in our own way. Even you. Remember, sitting in the passenger seat, with your head turned looking at the rain out the window, listening to your favourite slow R&B song. In your head, you think you’re in a music video, but your dad thinks you’re a tad weird when he sees you in his rear view. It’s okay though. Trust me. That little world we live in at times that exists in our own mind is the only way some of us have that feeling of true importance. That feeling of ‘no one matters, but me.’ If your escape is to overstate your worth, then that’s nothing to shun. There is a lot of good that comes from it. 

 

Chapter 2 – An empath 

 

It’s 1:30 am, and I have just come in after a night out with my friends. My alarm is set for 6 am because of some commitments I made so there is no doubt I will be tired, but it’s always worth it. There is this perfect mix of seriousness and childishness that we exhibit that makes every moment spent with them worthwhile. Got to get to bed, though. Clothes are off. Teeth are brushed. Doors are locked. I’m ready to sleep. I turn off my lights, close my eyes then I sl… my phone rings. Who on earth is calling me at this hour? It can’t be my family; they are all asleep. It can’t be my crush, I’m not that lucky. Maybe a friend I was with has lost something of theirs. I love them wholeheartedly, but I need this sleep. The phone rings out. I try again. My lights are still off, my mouth still has the minty taste, and the doors are still locked. Eyes closing, closing, closed. Not even ten seconds into my slumber, the phone rings again for a second time. My temperature rises. Who is disturbing me? I need to find out. ‘Okay this must be serious’ I mutter to myself. I have my back turned to my phone, so I let out a heavy sigh, flip around and grab my phone. I had to double take. There was no way he was calling. I finally answer the call. The content of the phone call isn’t all that important, but the context of the person who called me is. It’s an old pal of mine. Once attached by the hip, a series of unfortunate events led to our friendship dwindling into nothingness. Respect and care do not have to disappear even when proximity does, so answering the call to hear what he wanted was the least I could do. ‘Thank you, man. I know we haven’t spoken recently but I knew you’d be the best person to speak to’ he said before wishing me a good night. The call ended, but the thoughts started. What made me the best person to call on a random Saturday morning? The answers came to me quickly, however. I am an empath, and everyone needs those in their life, even just sporadically. 

 

Empathy is the ability to understand and share the feelings of another. It can be because of an experience that allows you to relate with the individual, or simply just the genuine comprehension of what one might be going through. We feel deeper than others, sometimes even more than the person who we supposedly feel sorry for. The thought of my primary school friend in tears because no one turned up to her party still weighs on my heart heavy. There is a perception that empaths are the best people to go to when the going gets tough, but I want to challenge that. I envy those who are able to be told bad news, show care, but still can get on with their daily activities. As for me, being told ill-fated stories puts me in a bit of a slump. Your ruined day becomes our ruined day. I believed that empaths are not best equipped to handle all things negative. We put ourselves not only in a position to show care, but to also solve whatever problem is currently being situated to you. I collect the evidence and then try to save the day. It becomes somewhat burdensome, but I have to do this. I cannot help it. There was a realisation I came to, however. By having this conviction that I had to be the hero, I was centring myself around their misfortunes. They did not have an expectation of me to go out and change the world. In that phone call as I was describing, I had not been in his life to fully grasp to the intricacies  of his issue and therefore, was unable to provide adequate advice. All he wanted was an honest set of ears; ready to listen and interject when necessary. Not all ears are the same though. You know when someone is understanding you, versus someone who is just listening because they are bound by duty – even if both are sitting there in silence. 

 

What is the best thing about being an empath? The pain of others distracts you from your own. Distractions, of course, are just temporary but they are necessary in times of crisis. When faced with a problem my feeling towards my circumstances are momentarily supressed. So, to the ladies who came to me when they were mistreated by their love interests, my heart goes out to you. You saved my life. And I am sure that when I am ready to offload my hurt, they will be more than happy to attend to me, the same way I attended to them. If only life was that easy. The awkward part of being an empath is that those who receive your empathy, aren’t always able to provide it in return. Feelings are never transactional, even when we would like them to be. Everyone loves receiving empathy, but not everyone knows how to show it. That’s okay though, but it acts as a stark reminder: comfort because you know you can and never for anything else.

 

 

Chapter 3 – Alone 

 

If you were to ask my parents who their most risk averse child is, ‘Chidera’ will be a likely response. So, when I told them about my plan to travel solo, they immediately laughed me out the room. I am known for surrounding myself with swarms of people. Travelling alone should have been my antithesis. Totally against what makes me, me. And that’s exactly why I had to do it. The notion that I was only capable of enjoyment when in the company of the masses was one I was keen to depart from. Therefore, any suggestion that I should be accompanied were quickly snuffed out by myself. With the holiday personnel being decided, there was just one obstacle: I had little idea on where I wanted to go. Let the preparation begin. It had to be the right price. Firstly, it can’t be too expensive – I have a life to live after the holiday. It also couldn’t be too cheap – come on, decent service will always come at a price. Got to find that sweet spot. Done. Budget swiftly sorted. Now I have an idea of how much I want to spend, this narrows down the holiday destinations quite drastically. What’s next to consider? Flight time. Me and flying have never got along. That fear wasn’t relieved when my plane was struck by lightning, but that’s a story for another day. Nonetheless, the time I spent the air had to be reasonably minimal. That pretty much ruled out any destination outside Europe. What are the options, then? I whittled it down to two cities. I write as if it was a difficult choice, but it was far from it. Thanks to GCSE and Duolingo, there was one country I discovered a great affinity for the Spanish language. I had been before, but the goal was to try and assimilate as much as possible. Going alone was the best way to do that. Got to brush up my accent, though. Into the mirror I go. ‘Hola, gracias, si’. I sounded like a native. Spain was where I was headed. Madrid in particular.

 

The trip was a resounding success. It lacked the intimacy that is brought by travelling with a partner, and the unadulterated laughter you enjoy when with friends and family, but those are things you sacrifice when travelling solo. Did I ever feel lonely? Being alone is simply the physical state of having no one else around, whilst being lonely is being upset at that lack of presence. Not a moment crossed my mind where I craved any sort of company. I’m not a sadist, and I don’t wish to live in solitude for the rest of my existence, however being just comfortable alone was no longer adequate. I had to be happy alone. To be able to have fun alone. To find peace alone. Company should only add to my smile, not manufacture it. You can’t avoid it, either. Alone time that is. Whether it’s a steaming hot shower after a long day at work or a walk along the greenery, time spent by yourself is inescapable. Still, life is all about balance. Here, I am advocating for us all to find stability within ourselves, but this canbe done and should be done without neglecting our relationships. No, not just your Mr or Mrs. Romance makes up just a minute percentage of all the rapports we have grown up experiencing. Continue to conserve and perpetuate these relationships you have at home, school, your place of worship and do so whilst learning to love being alone.

 

‘This is your reminder - alone is not synonymous with not good enough. Alone is not a weakness, it is not something to be ashamed of. No, alone is a gift. It is a foundation, a steady ground within yourself that will be there whether or not you sleep beside the tired bones of another human being. Alone is knowledge, in yourself and in your hopes. Alone is a ruthless dedication to understanding your heart and fighting for what compels it after years of allowing for it to beloved in halves. Alone is not lonely. Alone is not broken. Alone is an anchoring, a healing - a reminder that the love you find within yourself will be yours forever, a reminder that you have the capacity to be your own home.’

 

A Gentle Reminder - Bianca Sparacino