Nobody realizes that some people expend tremendous energy merely to be normal. ~ Albert Camus
Normal.
I have never been defined as 'normal' by anyone who knows me. Eccentric, a little weird, a daydreamer, going to the beat of my own drum. Maybe even skipping a beat here and there. But normal? Nahhhhhhhhh.
A lot of it goes back to how I was raised and things that happened but I'm trying very hard to learn those things are in the past and that's where I need to keep them. Bringing them out of where I have them very deeply buried in my closet won't benefit me in any way. They dredge up memories that are better left forgotten.
I've been doing a lot of thinking...pondering (I love the word pondering. Mary did a lot of that)...and reflecting back on how I must have been perceived by people, especially as a teenager. My graduating class recently had its 45th reunion. Oh, I would not go back to those teenage years for anything, not just as far as school was concerned but as to the home front, too. I don't know how I got so pigeon-holed into someone I truly, deep down, didn't resemble in the least on the inside and I felt like I couldn't detach myself from everyone else's definition of me for anything. I had no idea how.
But, you know, I'm ok with that. I've grown into myself. Finally. Mostly in the last 10 years. I came to the realization that people were either going to like me. Or not. That it wasn't the end of the world if they didn't. I didn't always like everyone I met, either. That others' opinions of me didn't affect my world one way or another. I could say no to doing things I really absolutely positively did not want to do...and people still liked me. I think they like me better now that I'm no longer a doormat.
Something that has been a big part of my life, clinging to me like a roll of Saran Wrap, has been my extreme shyness. My husband says I could carry on a conversation with a rock if I had no one or nothing else to talk to. My daughter-in-law teases me about meeting my new best friends on planes...in grocery lines... Well, yeah...I guess I do. But if you only knew the effort it takes for me to step out of my comfort zone. Seriously. If I'm in a social situation where I'm not very comfortable and I know I have to make chit-chat, by the time I leave and go home I am mentally exhausted. I just don't 'do' chit-chat. My mom was more a mother on an intellectual level. She never taught me anything about being a 'girl'...about fashion or hair or how to chit-chat. Probably because she didn't know how to either. I think I was a pretty good actress, though, but how difficult it was trying to fit in and not having a clue how.
Over 6 1/2 years ago we made a huge change in our lives. Both my husband and I were 57 years old. Grandparents. Going through the motions of day-to-day life. He'd worked at the same place for 32 years. We'd lived in our house for 28. Our kids were grown and into their 'adult' lives. "Adulting", as my daughter calls it. Then the opportunity to move to Michigan came up and we did a lot of praying about it, asking the Lord to slam shut the doors if He didn't want us to do it. All kinds of prayers began to flood in with positive answers. Not only did He keep the doors open, He flung open the windows as well. So...off to Michigan we went, along with our son's family and our daughter, to start a new life. We called it our Midlfe Adventure. Our friends called us nuts.
We had a new house. My husband began learning a whole new trade. I had to take the GPS with me everywhere because the terrain was so flat and I had nothing to guide me like the West Hills of Portland and Mt. Hood in the east, I was so turned around I had no idea what direction I was headed. It was a whole new region with new people. Not one soul did I know. Not one.
There's a scripture about friendship, that if you want friends you have to show yourself friendly. So I hoisted up my snow boots...there was plenty of snow on the ground when we moved here...and set off to conquer my shyness. Rejection...the fear of rejection...was my biggest stumbling block. But what a funny thing. The more I reached out, the more people reacted. They weren't as scary as I thought they were. I felt like Sally Field: "You like me! You really like me!" And there is something so liberating...so intoxicating...moving somewhere that not one person knows you. There's no history. They don't know anything at all about you. My husband calls it our "witness protection plan"...that we could reinvent ourselves to be anyone. But, you know...we're still just us. We're really pretty easy people to know.
I have never been defined as 'normal' by anyone who knows me. Eccentric, a little weird, a daydreamer, going to the beat of my own drum. Maybe even skipping a beat here and there. But normal? Nahhhhhhhhh.
A lot of it goes back to how I was raised and things that happened but I'm trying very hard to learn those things are in the past and that's where I need to keep them. Bringing them out of where I have them very deeply buried in my closet won't benefit me in any way. They dredge up memories that are better left forgotten.
I've been doing a lot of thinking...pondering (I love the word pondering. Mary did a lot of that)...and reflecting back on how I must have been perceived by people, especially as a teenager. My graduating class recently had its 45th reunion. Oh, I would not go back to those teenage years for anything, not just as far as school was concerned but as to the home front, too. I don't know how I got so pigeon-holed into someone I truly, deep down, didn't resemble in the least on the inside and I felt like I couldn't detach myself from everyone else's definition of me for anything. I had no idea how.
But, you know, I'm ok with that. I've grown into myself. Finally. Mostly in the last 10 years. I came to the realization that people were either going to like me. Or not. That it wasn't the end of the world if they didn't. I didn't always like everyone I met, either. That others' opinions of me didn't affect my world one way or another. I could say no to doing things I really absolutely positively did not want to do...and people still liked me. I think they like me better now that I'm no longer a doormat.
Something that has been a big part of my life, clinging to me like a roll of Saran Wrap, has been my extreme shyness. My husband says I could carry on a conversation with a rock if I had no one or nothing else to talk to. My daughter-in-law teases me about meeting my new best friends on planes...in grocery lines... Well, yeah...I guess I do. But if you only knew the effort it takes for me to step out of my comfort zone. Seriously. If I'm in a social situation where I'm not very comfortable and I know I have to make chit-chat, by the time I leave and go home I am mentally exhausted. I just don't 'do' chit-chat. My mom was more a mother on an intellectual level. She never taught me anything about being a 'girl'...about fashion or hair or how to chit-chat. Probably because she didn't know how to either. I think I was a pretty good actress, though, but how difficult it was trying to fit in and not having a clue how.
Over 6 1/2 years ago we made a huge change in our lives. Both my husband and I were 57 years old. Grandparents. Going through the motions of day-to-day life. He'd worked at the same place for 32 years. We'd lived in our house for 28. Our kids were grown and into their 'adult' lives. "Adulting", as my daughter calls it. Then the opportunity to move to Michigan came up and we did a lot of praying about it, asking the Lord to slam shut the doors if He didn't want us to do it. All kinds of prayers began to flood in with positive answers. Not only did He keep the doors open, He flung open the windows as well. So...off to Michigan we went, along with our son's family and our daughter, to start a new life. We called it our Midlfe Adventure. Our friends called us nuts.
We had a new house. My husband began learning a whole new trade. I had to take the GPS with me everywhere because the terrain was so flat and I had nothing to guide me like the West Hills of Portland and Mt. Hood in the east, I was so turned around I had no idea what direction I was headed. It was a whole new region with new people. Not one soul did I know. Not one.
There's a scripture about friendship, that if you want friends you have to show yourself friendly. So I hoisted up my snow boots...there was plenty of snow on the ground when we moved here...and set off to conquer my shyness. Rejection...the fear of rejection...was my biggest stumbling block. But what a funny thing. The more I reached out, the more people reacted. They weren't as scary as I thought they were. I felt like Sally Field: "You like me! You really like me!" And there is something so liberating...so intoxicating...moving somewhere that not one person knows you. There's no history. They don't know anything at all about you. My husband calls it our "witness protection plan"...that we could reinvent ourselves to be anyone. But, you know...we're still just us. We're really pretty easy people to know.
I too have this social shyness! I am not a person who can make small talk, so I can really feel what you mean. I guess moving somewhere, where no one knows us is not an option for us, but I'm sure it would help me too. I'm glad you were able to open up to your new neighborhood and find friends there.
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