I don’t know if that helps, but there is a word for it, or at least for a related phenomenon, though that can be experienced by people for other reasons.
Hiraeth. Homesickness, but for a home that you can’t return to, or that never existed.
For me, it is among the most painful things I have ever felt, and while it never goes away, the constant pressure of it can be something I suppress when I have no connection or hint of such a place at all. E.g. before I went to my magically awesome boarding school filled with highly gifted kids, the classroom I was in was one I so despised that I didn’t feel the pain of being rejected from it, because I felt I did not want the acceptance of such a group in the first place. Similarly, my family was so fucked that I missed being able to escape them, I didn’t miss having a family per se, because all I knew here as a reference frame for what families could be was awful. It wasn’t until I encountered communities that had some values I deeply respected, or found families, that it began to really hurt. I think, for me the hardest part was realising that there are communities for strange people—science, academia, nerds, queer scenes—and that I am still not home. At first, it feels like the pain can be alleviated when I am in communities—often highly gifted, neurodiverse, nerdy, kinky and queer communities for me—where in some measure or other, this is reduced, and I feel I can be a part, and seen, valued, wanted. For me it then hits most strongly when, having connected, and felt how much it means to me, I run into the limits of that like ragged ends. When I realise people have befriended and welcomed a mask and performance, not me. That they might get and accept one aspect of me, but find other aspects that are just as much a part of me weird, incomprehensible, broken, wrong. That I still need to hide who I am, conform, or stick out like a sore thumb. Basically, when you dangle the possibility that this could be solved in front of me, and for an instance, I get a feeling for what it could mean, let myself realise how fucking much I want it—and then snatch it away, and remind me that I still do not fit in anywhere. Or when I and others together build a tiny fortress of rationality and diversity, an imperfect fragment in the ocean, but something—and then, I need to step outside of it, and normal reality hits me like a ton of bricks.
I don’t know if that helps, but there is a word for it, or at least for a related phenomenon, though that can be experienced by people for other reasons.
Hiraeth. Homesickness, but for a home that you can’t return to, or that never existed.
For me, it is among the most painful things I have ever felt, and while it never goes away, the constant pressure of it can be something I suppress when I have no connection or hint of such a place at all. E.g. before I went to my magically awesome boarding school filled with highly gifted kids, the classroom I was in was one I so despised that I didn’t feel the pain of being rejected from it, because I felt I did not want the acceptance of such a group in the first place. Similarly, my family was so fucked that I missed being able to escape them, I didn’t miss having a family per se, because all I knew here as a reference frame for what families could be was awful. It wasn’t until I encountered communities that had some values I deeply respected, or found families, that it began to really hurt. I think, for me the hardest part was realising that there are communities for strange people—science, academia, nerds, queer scenes—and that I am still not home. At first, it feels like the pain can be alleviated when I am in communities—often highly gifted, neurodiverse, nerdy, kinky and queer communities for me—where in some measure or other, this is reduced, and I feel I can be a part, and seen, valued, wanted. For me it then hits most strongly when, having connected, and felt how much it means to me, I run into the limits of that like ragged ends. When I realise people have befriended and welcomed a mask and performance, not me. That they might get and accept one aspect of me, but find other aspects that are just as much a part of me weird, incomprehensible, broken, wrong. That I still need to hide who I am, conform, or stick out like a sore thumb. Basically, when you dangle the possibility that this could be solved in front of me, and for an instance, I get a feeling for what it could mean, let myself realise how fucking much I want it—and then snatch it away, and remind me that I still do not fit in anywhere. Or when I and others together build a tiny fortress of rationality and diversity, an imperfect fragment in the ocean, but something—and then, I need to step outside of it, and normal reality hits me like a ton of bricks.