“Life is about who you share it with.”

I read this quote on a friend’s Facebook status one night. Wedged in between vivid YouTube videos and bizarre quiz responses, it almost escaped my notice completely. Yet once I had read it, my reaction was somewhat blasé. ‘Just another generic lovey dovey saying’ I thought to myself, and continued scrolling down my News Feed in a fruitless search for interesting updates.

That was many months ago. Since then, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the phrase.

Yes, it’s clichéd. But clichés have to come from somewhere. And that somewhere is usually a commonly acknowledged truth – so commonly acknowledged, in fact, that it is taken for granted, unappreciated, and even mocked. That might be why I reacted the way I did...

But, the months that I spent pondering this little quote also marked a period of huge changes in my life. I’m under no illusion that I'm far from calm waters, but at this point in time, I can only reflect on what has already been. Guessing what is yet to come is something I have learned to do more and more in moderation.

I used to be a girl who didn’t need people’s company to be happy, to feel self-assured. I was quite happy in solitude. In fact, I preferred it that way most of the time. It may have something to do with being an only child who didn’t see much of her parents every day, and who didn’t have many friends growing up in a strange culture and a foreign country. I say that with no resentment or regret. It’s just the way it was.

But that all started to change about a year ago.

Maybe it was love? Maybe I just hadn’t found the right company till now? Or maybe it wasn’t the people I had gained, but those I had lost.

In those few months, I felt like the ground had fallen out from beneath me, and I was clutching at anything to make myself a safety net. I craved attention, affection, and above all, affirmation. I felt like a leech: so needy, so desperate. So reliant. And I was – for the first time since being a nine-year-old tucking myself into bed – scared to be alone.

I was beyond disgusted at myself, but it was a vicious cycle that I was too weak to break out of. Flattery and love flowed in from wherever I sucked. Everywhere except where I needed it the most. Yet, the more I got, the more I wanted, and the weaker I became to resist it. It wasn’t what I needed, but I tried desperately to fool myself that it was. It was an addiction of the worst kind.

It took me a long time to even realise I had a problem. Suppressing the pain was, as always, a much easier option. But they say recognition is the first step to recovery, right? I can take a step back now and look at the two extremes I had swung between. The harder part is doing something about it: finding the balance.

It’s learning the art of the three-legged race... Life is not about being the two-legged spectator, nor being the one pulling or being pulled. 

No, life is about who you share it with.