My situation, as it unfolds in front of me, has lead me to draw strength from the strong women whom helped raise me. What would they say to me if they were still here? What lessons of my youth may apply? What have I forgotten, or filed away and haven’t found again?
One night I went to sleep utterly overwhelmed and desperate to know what to do. We’d been struggling with the terms of our new life. Broken girl, while not being broken yet, was struggling with not getting as much play time as she had always had. Welding Boy was struggling with being a child, but having an intense desire to provide for his siblings and mom. Blue Girl was under social attack by all the friends she’d made in the last year. Movie Boy was experiencing a new type of chaos. One he didn’t deserve to experience. He was feeling everybody’s stress; wanting it to go away. I was struggling with being the only parent, the only taxi driver, the only provider. I was emotionally hanging on by a thread. To top that off…. Blue Girl’s chickens were being knocked off one by one by some wild animal in broad daylight. Just what we needed.
I went to bed thinking of my dear Aunt. We’d been close all through my youth. I know she wasn’t living in town when I was very young, but sometime in the 80s she and my uncle moved into town. She quickly became a staple in some of my most beloved memories. Right along with my Grandmother. She’d passed away around 2013. All I wanted was to borrow some of her wisdom. She always had answers. She always knew what to do. I fell into an exhausted slumber.
Sometime in the night a specific memory materialized. I’ve only though of this one other time; when I was asked to speak at my Aunt’s celebration of life.
When I was young, maybe 11-13 years old I was having a hard time at school. Some of the “popular” girls loved to get after me for being the “weird girl”. I was in that awkward stage that girls enter right around then. My legs were too long for my body. Arms were too gangling and noodle-like to be considered strong. My eyes were far too large for my face. I was super skinny, not a single curve to be found. Oh, how these girls loved to pick on all those things!
My aunt and I were walking the dogs up Pattee Canyon at a place we lovingly called the gully. I’m positive it doesn’t exist any longer or it’s part of somebody’s yard. I began telling her about these girls and how unfair it was they got to pick on me.
My Aunt chuckled. It was an adorable chuckle she used to do prior to being wise. However, at the time, in the mindset I was in, I was convinced she was also laughing at me. My heart knew she wouldn’t do that, but my head was twisted with all the crap going on at school. Then she blew my mind!
“Of course you’re the weird girl! You are who you are, and they can’t recognize that. If you can’t be comfortable in your own skin, who’s skin should you be comfortable in?”
I remember asking her if being weird was a bad thing. She responded with something to the effect that everybody was weird in their own way. We walked along the gully and back in silence after that. Neither of us were ever uncomfortable with silence.
Fast forward to 40 years old. My dreams are bringing this back to me in vivid technicolor. I can remember what we are wearing, the season, how I was feeling, and suddenly I’m waking up knowing she is right.
I’d lost myself somewhere along the way. The pressures of my relationship I’d endured sidetracked me. I gave up on being me to try to “fix” things that weren’t meant to be fixed. My want and need to find what had derailed my husband, my life, my balance blinded me. Somehow everything that was “wrong” forced the real me into hiding. The thing is… I wasn’t meant to hide. I was meant to be blatantly me!
I’m supposed to be the “weird girl” in all the weird girl glory I can muster. So here’s to all the “weird girls” out there. Never lose who you are along the way. You are meant to stand out. Go be glorious, and make things happen!
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