If you're reading this, you probably know me well enough to know that I spent a good amount of years trying to fit in, or trying to figure out what "normal" was. My family and upbringing, while normal to me, probably didn't look normal to those on the outside looking in, though we did a good job of pretending like everything was okay. At least, I think we did a good job of that, but now that I think of it, it wouldn't be that difficult to spot.
Growing up, I always felt different. Never mind that I was gifted with being the middle child. That would be hard enough in any "normal" family, but when you throw in alcoholism, emotional abuse, and trauma into the mix, you might start to understand why my idea of normal might be a tad askew. For years I believed that something was wrong with me, that I was perhaps addicted to pain and suffering. But I've discovered that maybe I'm comfortable with some amount of crazy; some amount of unpredictability, and that even though it triggers some amount of anxiety, I know how to navigate my way through that.
Somewhere along the way, I recognized that whatever "normal" was, I wasn't it. I didn't go to church like everyone else, and even when my friends didn't, they at least had something they were running from on Sundays. Sundays to me meant football, and hoping that my dad didn't decide to have a random house deep clean, where I'd be holding back tears trying to decide which toys to keep or throw away. I didn't have anywhere to run to. I relied on my older brother, who was just a year and a half older than me, but I couldn't go to my parents because they were often the cause of a lot of my anxiety. I learned to withdraw, keep it to myself, and I would often seek escape in books and movies. And you wonder why I still have a passion for these things. They were my safe place. Pretending like I was flying the Millennium Falcon was easier than questioning why my parents were fighting, and why mom was threatening to leave again.
Growing up, things were always unpredictable. I never knew what to expect, but I was pretty sure I could expect the worst. It used to amaze me, how my dad would notice the most insignificant marks on the wall, and somehow know that my brother and I threw a ninja star straight into it. But I never did know what to expect, but anytime I saw his truck turn the corner to come home, my stomach would drop and I'd go through my day, trying to figure out where and how I messed up. I was constantly on high alert, ready to defend myself, apologize, and try to forget about whatever I had done wrong. But forgetting about it was never easy. I'd most often blame myself and wish I could do something different to make my parents proud.
It seemed that I could never please anyone. I was letting down my community by not going to church. My teachers often criticized me for being too quiet. The librarian was falsely accusing me of stealing books. In sports, I wasn't aggressive enough. I wasn't smart enough to understand math. Even if I was getting complimented, it seems that the bad outweighed the good, and this shaped my narrative, that I was all alone; that I could trust no one but myself, even though I believed I was stupid. I believed that anything I did, wouldn't be good enough, but I'd keep trying to please everyone just to fit in.
And this leads me to the title of this. No more. I'm not living up to your expectations anymore. My happiness is too important. I spent too much of my life trying to fit in to someone else's definition of normal and all it got me was years of depression, anxiety, confusion, anger, and resentments. I can honestly say that from age 18 to 32, I was not being my authentic self. I was trying desperately to fit in, and it hurts to admit, but I have to be honest. I sometimes feel like I wasted those years and I regret that I can't have them back. I would do so many things different. But I can't. I can only move forward and live according to my expectations. No apologies. I feel like I'm still young emotionally and mentally because of that. Fourteen years of my life were put on hold trying to live my life to please others, and that isn't going to be a thing anymore. I feel like I'm waking up again, and rediscovering parts of me I had forgotten. I feel like I've literally been relearning who I am over the past ten years or so. What a healthy relationship is, both to myself and others. Lord knows I didn't know before that. Some of you might not understand or even accept this, and that's okay. But hopefully some of you will. So looking forward, I might offend you, you might not agree with me, and I might even come across as childish. Who cares? I'm trying to live my life in a way that I can feel happy. I invite you to join me.
The End.
P.S. Again, this really isn't about sympathy or feeling bad for me. I'm not seeking that at all, but I think understanding between humans is important....whether it involves me or not. So much of the hatred we see in the world, I think, at it's roots is misunderstanding. How many people feel misunderstood every day? Probably a lot, and I want to be someone who at least attempts to understand. My aim in life is to cultivate compassion, joy, empathy, happiness, and love in myself and everyone I meet. So, I think maybe this forum can be used in that way.
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