I’m trying to figure out how to start this post about how I’m queen of the weirdos.
I don’t have a good hook. Which, when you think about it, is about 90% of why I’m queen of the weirdos. I never know the right thing to say. I often say the wrong thing instead.
You know that kid who never quite fit at the lunch table? You know, the fat one. The one with terrible acne. The one who didn’t wear the right shoes or have the right haircut. The one who liked all the wrong bands and all the wrong boys.
That was me.
Did you ever wonder where I went after I finally withdrew and the tiny sliver of table you allowed me was wordlessly redistributed to the cool kids? Did you even notice I had given up?
I’ll tell you where I went. I went to another table. An empty table.
The first day I ate by myself. The second day, one person joined me. Within a week, we had regulars. What’s the word for a group of weirdos? A congress of misfits? A cackle of nerds? A conspiracy of people you barely notice on the fringes of your life?
Don’t worry. I’m not angry. In fact, I don’t even frame the situation as “you reject me” anymore. I was pre-rejected. I’m guessing most of us were – by parents or siblings or nursery school friends. By the time I got to you, I had already learned what I was.
A weirdo. A geek. A fatso.
I built a whole identity around it. And at times, I served as the de facto leader of those who are invisible in plain sight.
I have spent my entire life living under the assumption that I am not like you and I will never be like you and I should probably just try to be as independent as possible so I don’t have to experience the awkwardness of being the object of your attention for any length of time.
I became an NPC in your video game, sticking to my little loop of pre-programmed actions. Nothing to see here, just another townsperson in your peripheral vision. I made myself invisible when you looked my way. No big feelings, no ostentatious outfits, nothing at all that would make me stand out.
But here’s the thing.
When you’re isolated, you start to lose track of yourself.
Who am I? Why am I here? I think I know, but…
There’s no key to unlock these questions. I know. I’ve looked. I’ve looked everywhere.
Except to you.
I believe creation happened because consciousness, as a singular entity, could not know itself. So it created animals, plants, humans – the world – so that it could expand and change and learn about all that is. I believe that each of us is a spark of consciousness – one body in many forms.
Today I realized that, if consciousness needs an observer to know itself, then I probably do too.
So I have to change. And this is my why: isolation isn’t getting me any closer to identifying and living my purpose.
It’s not going to be easy. It will take courage to stand tall in your sight, receiving your attention and perhaps judgment for what I am and what I am not. But if I want to live my purpose…
I want to live my purpose.
So I will.