Tag: being different

Outside Looking In

points of light

Every day there are people getting excited about doing things like traveling to far away places, eating interesting food, getting together with large groups of friends to enjoy each others’ company, and getting dressed up for nights out on the town.  There are shows and concerts and balls and dances and parties that fill people’s lives and they look forward to these things.  Other friends are excited to take spontaneous road trips to the beach or the woods.  So many of them love camping and hiking and other healthy pursuits.  So many people I know are giddy about taking their children to amusement parks and big family gatherings.  Most people I know are excited to see the end of winter and get the sunshine back.  Normal people like games and group activities and sing-a-longs and loud busy restaurants at which the whole world wants a seat.

With near-constant bravado I cheerfully joke about how much I hate summer weather, balloons, parties, board games, any games, amusement parks, swimming in lakes, hiking, sporty pursuits, big groups of people in any circumstance aside from anonymous groups of people at outdoor markets or on busy city streets where no one has the slightest expectations of me.  I say I’m totally cool with the fact that I don’t yearn to travel the world, I don’t want to get together with all the people I know in the world, or even a quarter of them, or any number of them above 4 at a time.  Though 2 at a time is the only time I’m truly comfortable.  I like going to bars completely by myself and getting lunch by myself is a treat I greatly look forward to.  Amusement parks depress the shit out of me and it depresses me that other people enjoy them.

I mostly like to hang out with my tiny family and just a small handful of my closest friends, but never all at the same time.  I don’t like spontaneity and it bothers me that others value it so much.  I loathe surprises of any kind.  I don’t like new experiences and though I love the ocean in theory I don’t want to spend much time near it because it makes me anxious.  Woods make me anxious too.  People make me anxious.  Crowded restaurants make me anxious.  Places too full of human noise make me anxious.  The thought of travel makes me anxious.  Going to new restaurants makes me anxious.  Car travel makes me anxious.  Airplane travel makes me anxious.  (Though airports are actually one of my favorite places to hang out and one of my favorite parts of the travel

Behind all the bravado is a constant slow torture and near constant anxiety.

I wish being different didn’t so often make me want to scour out my insides because it makes me so uncomfortable. It’s so many little things that add up every day. Not being able to be part of things everyone around me is excited to be part of. Not wanting to be part of it but then wishing everyone else was like me so I wouldn’t feel so outside of things. It’s like looking into other people’s windows and seeing them all happy and warm and they reach out and invite me in but I can’t come in because I will bring the outside with me where-ever I go. I want to invite them to come outside with me looking into other people’s windows but they don’t want to come outside because it’s always so fucking cold where I’m standing. Cold and dark.

It’s not me who minds the cold and dark, it’s most other people.  People naturally seek warmth and light.

I am filled with dark matter.

Backwards Woman

I had a revelation today of un-monumental proportions: I am BACKWARDS WOMAN!  It’s like being a super hero, only anticlimactic.  I am completely, predictably, opposite of everyone else.  Some cases in point:

Sunshine makes me angry, gives me headaches and nausea and hives.  It’s as though I’m allergic to it.  While everyone else is suffering from S.A.D. in the winter, I am THRIVING on the butt freezing cold, the snow, the icy rain, the bone chilling winds, the frost, and the perpetual dark skies and early twilight.  Sunshine, on the other hand, depresses the crap out of me.  Backwards.

Everyone wants to be thrilled and surprised and WHO WANTS TO KNOW THE END OF THE STORY FIRST?  Me.  That’s who.  I hate surprises.  Backwards.

Everyone loves games and activities designed to help us all get to know each other and pass the time in an endless string of gaiety and liveliness.  Except me.  I hate games.  Backwards.

The vast majority of people find that they sleep much better when they don’t drink alcohol.  Alcohol is like a box full of solid awesome sleep tied with the most elaborate bow the most obsessively creative person can devise.  Backwards.

While chocolate is supposedly indispensable to every woman, I eat chocolate when I can’t find anything better to eat when I have a sweet tooth.  I spent most of my life disliking it but I while I no longer actively dislike it, it is NEVER my first choice.  NEVER.  Backwards.

The general and accepted wisdom is that you’re supposed to date your prospective marriage partner before marrying them but I married a man I barely knew based on my assessment of his potential as a long-term mate and because he seemed a better man (by virtue of being different) than any I had previously dated.  I would never have dated him but I married him and still love him after 18 years.  Ass backwards!

As a woman I’m supposed to worship both motherhood and the life affirming act of giving birth.  Giving  birth kind of made me want to die, or at least to NEVER EVER DO THAT AGAIN.  Motherhood is absolutely the hardest thing I’ve ever done or ever will do and though in one respect I am typical (I love my son so much I’d die in his place any day) I don’t see motherhood as something to worship any more than I worship any other calling or vocation.  I don’t have much worship in me for anything.  Backwards.

I never met a strappy heel I thought was sexy or that made my feet feel libidinous.  Boots are sexy to me.   Boots with purpose.  Or chunky 1940’s platforms.  Or 1920’s and 30’s Louis heels.  I hate… REALLY REALLY HATE Manolo Blahniks and Jimmy Choo shoes.  I love custom made Justin boots.  Backwards!

Pot is supposed to reduce nausea in most people but it actually makes me nauseous!  Even the memory of it makes me want to vomit.  I can’t even do drugs like normal.  Backwards.

Oh, speaking of drugs… speed- bad ass shit I’m glad I never actually got addicted to… why I liked it is that it gave me the energy to organize which my chaotic brain loves but which my depressive nervous system makes improbable.  I didn’t love the “high” of speed, I loved the utility of it.  Most people use it to  be high and party.  I used it to organize my desk and make a hierarchy of lists that would make professional life coaches fall in love with me.  Backwards.

I am backwards woman.  Whatever is the accepted norm of experience you can be sure I’ve got some other take on it.  I swear to god I don’t do this for the sake of being different.

You’ll have to take my word on that.

I think I’ve seen the inside of too many dawns.