Yesterday my mom lashed out at me in a really nasty way over something minor — she said I was chewing too loudly and got upset that I didn’t pick up bagels in the right area since I didn’t realize dine-in and online pickup were separate. She compared me to my rude, childish, and inconsiderate coworkers — people I can’t stand — and said I’d “end up alone,” which is my biggest fear. It really hurt. Her mean-spirited, judgmental critiques are part of why it’s so hard for me to get close to people because I fear they’ll shun me once they see my flaws.

She’s always been strict, controlling, and overly critical, and I tend to internalize her words. Even when I know she’s taking her frustration out on me — especially after our dog’s death and my brother’s recent struggles — it still feels cruel. My brother, the “golden child,” seemed to have the perfect college experience: friends, confidence, and success. But less than a year after graduating, he had a breakdown and even became aggressive toward me. Now he’s failing classes in his master’s program and needs surgery. Watching my parents’ disappointment and stress has been difficult, especially since they’ve always treated him with more leniency.

Meanwhile, I’m still grieving our family dog, who passed away peacefully last week after nearly 17 years with us. His loss has left a huge void — he was part of my life since childhood, through every stage and rough patch.

2025 hasn’t been the easiest year overall. Between family drama, grief, and still not being able to find a job in my field of study due to DOGE, it’s been a test of patience and faith. My current workplace feels like déjà vu — my coworkers are immature, inconsiderate, cliquey, and much older, which brings me right back to how I felt as a pariah in college. People always say that “adults are nicer and more accepting after high school,” but that was the antithesis of my experience.

I’ve been trying really hard to expand my social circle and eventually find the love of my life — a partner I can build a family with — but my job feels isolating. To break that cycle, I joined a chorus, and while I’m not close to anyone there yet, I’m proud of myself for persisting.

In college, I gave up too quickly on making friends because others weren’t approaching me first. It would’ve been nice to have found an extrovert I clicked with and have them adopt but the real world isn’t like that. After a terrible “roommate from hell” experience my freshman year, I started going home every weekend — first out of self-preservation, then out of boredom, loneliness, and feeling unwelcome. I became avoidant rather than intentional, and I regret that now. If I could go back, I’d care less about what others thought and keep trying new activities until I found something that fit — something where I might’ve found people I had actually had things in common with.

College was the loneliest time of my life, on par with middle school when I was bullied. I’ve realized that relationships based only on proximity — whether classmates, dorm-mates, roommates, neighbors, or colleagues — rarely turn into genuine friendships unless there’s a natural connection and shared values. Extroverts like my mom can maintain superficial friendships this way, but for me, that’s not enough. I crave deeper, more authentic connections — close friends who accept me as I am and a life partner I can grow with.

I’m trying to stay positive and not assume everyone is out to mistreat me, even though it’s felt that way in the past — especially when even the kids my mom pushed me to befriend ended up being rude or cruel. It’s hard not to brace for the worst or wait for the other shoe to drop, but I’m working on trusting that there are kind, genuine people out there who will see and value me.

I’m also trying to release old hurt and low self-esteem — the parts of me shaped by years of criticism, rejection, and feeling like an outsider. I want to build a more peaceful, fulfilling life surrounded by people who bring out the best in me — and to finally feel at home in my own skin.