Following instructions is a simple task for me. The difficulty lies in the lack of instructions for some of the really challenging things in our lives. And, even when instructions are provided, it doesn’t mean they will be easy to accomplish.
Throughout our lives we are often compartmentalized and labeled. We deny there is a “class system” in the U.S., but many of us know this is an illusion…greater than any created by the Wizard of Oz. As individuals we are classified and re-classified as our lives lurch along uncertain paths.
Most of us are aware of the meaning and tone of these words or phrases: “Square peg”…”odd”…”unusual”…”different.” Are we supposed to be built to fit into categories? I don’t believe so. My personal favorite is the term ‘outsider,’ as though an individual isn’t worthy of “normal” life.
The Outsiders, a young adult novel by S.E. Hinton written in the 1960s, has been a favorite of mine since forever. I grew up in a town heavily defined by the haves and the have nots. Though different in scope from the setting of the novel, it was easy to identify with the basic premises.
I lived the life of being an outsider, feeling I’ve never fit in. In many ways, I didn’t. In some ways, I skewed my own perceptions. I followed an expected path of life with one expectation left unfulfilled, that of marriage and family. Forced to make choices in accordance with expected outcomes, it was an area I would not compromise to the wishes of others.
My relationships with men have not been ideal. As a mature adult, I have a better understanding of where I fell short. Due to many circumstances beyond my control during my lifetime, I don’t blame myself anymore. I did receive two marriage proposals. Neither was feasible in my mind. I made the correct decisions.
There just aren’t any instructions for many events we deem crucial to our existence. In a seemingly scripted world, I’ve deviated from the prescribed path loads of times. Not always successfully, but often feeding my own sense of fulfillment.
In a recent email exchange with a long-time acquaintance, that individual spoke of always feeling like an “other,” while growing up in our environment. Wholeheartedly, I embraced that description. I know the feeling all too well.
After a fair amount of internal discussion, it’s not a term I choose to use for myself (even if it fits) due to a perceived negative vibe. I think of myself as an “extra,” an added bonus. To look at me in public, many wouldn’t know I excel in trivia contests, I’ve written a book, I maintain a blog where I confront difficult topics, among many other things. That’s all part of what makes me extra.
I’m a deep thinker. I’ve found very few with whom I’m comfortable exchanging thoughts residing in the depth of my being. So I often use song lyrics (poetry) to poke at those thoughts. As with most people, I’m struck by certain songs and lyrics. There’s no rhyme or reason to it. They soothe a rough patch within.
“There is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin/In the madness and soil of that sad earthly scene/Only then I am human, only then, I am clean”. From “Take Me to Church” by Hozier.
Stories Are For Eternity 