Riding the short bus

I have always been an obstinate person. I know some peope who would just use the term "ornery" and maybe rightly so. Even as a small girl, I was often contradictory to just about everything and everyone. I was maybe one of the happiest little girls you would meet -- my family and friends would often tease me about my constant laughter and "giggling episodes" that often left people laughing with me. I remember these episodes and how their laughter fed my laughter and how they would look at me with curious eyes. I loved that feeling.

Despite my apparent childhood joy, even then I was obstinate. I despised being like other kids. If I wanted to play a certain game and no one else wanted to play - I would put in my best argument as to why we should play what I wanted to play - and I often made deals (right, Thor?) - and if my argument succeeded, I was happy as a lark and often in the back of my mind a little disdainful of my playmate for having given in so easily (they must not have wanted to play their game badly enough). If I lost the argument, more often than not, I had a decidedly cheerful "to hell with you" attitude and continued along doing whatever I pleased, alone.

I write this realising that I sound more like a spoiled little girl than an obstinate brat... maybe both! I don't remember often pouting (unless the denial came from my folks) but I was often more satisfied that I was alone in my ideas, my play, my fun. What I liked and wanted to do was different and that made me different and that idea made me happy.

Since I was even in kindergarten, I remember looking at my fellow classmates and siblings and desired so much to be different than them. Not that they were bad, but I wanted to be different... special. Growing up through third, fourth, and fifth grades, I worked at building a wall around myself - to protect myself from being too much like everyone else. The higher I built my wall, the more I became like everyone else. Thre realization that I had nothing special to offer - I wasn't particularly smart, athletic, artistic - anything to make me stand apart from the crowd was a crushing blow to the ego. So I did what I couod to be different - I played the opposite of what the other kids played and I resented the "popular kids" and preferred not to even be on their radar (I'm sure this was a self-preserving mechanism to avoid rejection also, but that is another blog). I disliked the popular kids, the popular sports, the popular games - anything 'mainstream.' Ironically, I wanted to be like the kids who were different; the kids who were unlike the rest of us because of their looks, their religion, their knowledge. They were special, and effortlessly so! I befriended several kids who in my mind were special and stood out. I was proud and humbled by the fact that these special, extraordinary people accepted me - an ordinary girl - as their friend. I often felt even more boring next to them, and terribly, terribly jealous.

This refusal to conform; the refusal to join the masses was a deliberate decision. (Note: despite my efforts - I was a normal kid - and craved acceptance by everyone, something very normal. You can imagine how that made me feel. I was a walking contradiction.) Because of this I have often looked and felt to be a loner. I was, and am, ok with this title. It often lends an air of mystery and that's something special. (I'll take it where ever I can get it.)

What I didn't realize as a child was that I was setting myself up - I was teaching myself to rebuke every conformity. Make no mistake - I am an average person who has lived an average life, but terrifyingly so. I am the third child in a family of four kids. I was the first to truly fight back to my parnts, to stand my ground and hold my position and talk back and tell them what I thought. I think I often shocked them with my rebellion - minute as it may have been. I was the first in my family to go to college, the first to fly, the first to want something more in my life than the simple life in the country. In so many ways, particularly with my family, I felt I was breaking the mold and it was terrifying. Was I the only person that saw life through these eyes? Was I the only person who treasured differences and challenges?

In the ways that I was naturally different - my desires, thought processes, experiences - I felt alone and terrified and very confused. Exactly what I strove to become, but realizing I was different in small ways, I cowered with the realization that to be different one has to be strong. Maybe that was what I loved most about those different/special people all along; they had to carry a strength others didn't and that was precisely where my disgust with normalcy lie. I didn't think normalcy was a challenge, I didn't think it required strength or vision or creativity or intelligence. Normalcy floated along on a cloud above trial and error, above the need for discovery or strength or personal growth.

I was so wrong.

I have wished myself and my life to be extraordinary. I have ached with the desire to break boundaries, break gravity, break hearts. I have always craved to grow spiritually, grow wiser, go above and beyond all odds. I have wanted... needed to be special. For 27 years I have felt my heart pulling me to be different, pulling me until my ligaments and tendons feel like snapping. But it took me 27 years to realize that life requires vision, creativity, intelligence, and most importantly, strength. Special and ordinary alike, need to possess these traits to survive this confusing, messy, beautiful life. I have been trying, praying, wishing and yearning to be someone special so that I might possess these traits. I was pulling myself along so fiercly that I didn't even realize what direction I was going. I was so vigorous in my quest to be special that I didn't realize that I was already there.

Life seems to mold people to the things they need most. Not the things they want most. I wanted so badly to be special and different; but I was mistaken. What I should have pushed myself towards was the strength it takes to be different, the intelligence to manuever this crazy life. I always thought you had to do different, be different, look different to be special. But that is not the case. You have to think differently to be special. Because thinking differently and thinking independently is the only thing that sets you apart from others. And I think that's pretty damn special.