Since I can remember I have donned the attitude that it’s okay to be different. Well, okay, not in Grade 7 when I was called maggot lips. Those cold sores of mine made me a little TOO different! By the time I hit high school I didn’t care that some of my comrades deemed me a nerd, uncool, part of the ‘not it’ crowd. I was happy to be me.
Quirky, random, weird. I don’t want to lead a boring life or be remembered as having a dull personality…or just plain not be remembered. Chart my own path, do things differently, live without a box (not just outside of one), that’s what I think I want. Yet why am I sitting here wishing I could fit in – just once?
As a 47 year old mom with young children (whoa, I better publish this before I have to say 48 in a couple of weeks!) , I look at the friends my age who are all empty nesters and off to wherever … whenever … pursuing their lifelong passions. I’m mostly happy for them, but it kinda bugs me some days. Then I look at those younger than me with same aged children and again I feel like a misfit. I’m ‘too old’ for that crowd, even though in our society we say age is just a number. In my experience it’s just not true.
Think about it. When someone dates a person much younger they get called cat names. If they date someone much older they get labelled a gold digger. So the moral to that story is if you don’t want to be judged or don’t happen to connect with someone of a suitable age, just stay single…but wait…even that isn’t acceptable because then you’re missing out somehow.
What areas in life do you make assumptions about or judge people on? Think about it.
Now remember, I’m the one who likes to be different. At least I keep telling myself that.