This is one of those things that I've had to learn not to let bother me.
I am weird. No, really, I'm extremely weird, and everyone knows it. I have never been one to follow the rest of the group, and I'm always going off and doing my own thing. So it's not a surprise when you realize that I don't fit in with the majority of others. I've always been kind of an outcast, sometimes completely ostracized by my peers. After 22 years of that kind of treatment, I'm just used to it, and even expect it.
But you know what? I don't really care.
For most of my adolescent life I was pushed around, ignored, teased, mocked, bullied, threatened, and down right abused by my peers. (Children are terrible people, is what I've learned). But even after the worst treatment, I still got back up and kept living my life the way I wanted. Thought my struggles, I gained a few friends who were the best I could ever ask for. Some stood up for me, others helped me get back on my feet. No matter what happened, I always knew they were there for me. Same goes for my family.
There was a time in elements school where I guess I thought I was a cat, so I began acting more like one in public. Give me a break, I was like, 6. So, thus I was given the nickname "cat-girl." The name didn't stick around for that long, and it was pretty much forgotten by the end of that year. Not only was my behavior a cause for torment, but my choice of attire, and my enormous glasses added to the list of things people teased me about. The cliché nickname "four-eyes" was the most common insult. Throughout the rest of elementary school, I kept mostly to myself, and I only realize it now, but I honestly don't remember having a lot of friends. The exceptions are one girl from kindergarten named Candy, the neighbor I had when we moved to a different house (though she was not a very nice person), and a boy from my third grade class who, I guess was my boyfriend? (I don't really remember).
I don't know if I have mentioned this yet, but the reason I've moved around so much in my life is because my family is military. This meant that I changed schools every two to three years. So I was always the new kid in class, and it meant that I was either interesting for being new, or 'cursed' and ostracized for being an outsider. The third school I went to was the best example of the latter. We moved during winter break my fifth grade to my mother's (and sister's, technically) hometown. We had visited this town before, and came to live with my great grandfather before he passed away that spring. Thanks to his legacy in the town, some people accepted me for who I was, however it was usually elderly people who went to the same church as him. Being the weird little monster I was, it wasn't long before I was harassed by my fellow students, and even physically bullied by some underclassmen on the bus. Though I hated it, I took it all with stride, trying to show how strong I was and being able to take whatever they threw (sometimes literally) at me. There was another girl on the bus who unfortunately was picked on as well. She and I became very good friends and I wish I could get in contact with her again, just to see how she is doing. . . One day after school I got on the bus as usual, but this time I found her crying. It was at this point that I knew the bullies shenanigans had to stop. It was time we got our parents involved and even the police. After that, things calmed down and the harassment stopped.
It was funny that the following year, I actually spent some time hanging out and playing with some of the girls who bullied me. I look back on it now, but their home lives were not very pleasant. I understand now that it may not have been completely their fault for how they treated us, because that was how they were treated at home.
Later on, I still wasn't quite accepted by my peers, and eventually got teased by my home room class for befriending a boy who also was more of an outcast. (To this day, he is still one of my greatest friends). We were mercilessly teased for interacting with each other. Our teacher did everything in her power to separate us as well. But we were connected by our interests and artistic abilities, and we knew that together we were unstoppable. He was the rough and tough big brother that I needed in that town, so it was sad when I once again had to move, leaving him behind.
We moved far up north for the next two years. My school life there was much better than it had ever been. I made a small but strong group of friends. We weren't the 'popular' group, but we had our connections. It was a small school, with each grade being a tight group, so whatever drama was there didn't last long. I was still teased a little, but I took my weirdness with pride and kept doing whatever it was that I did. I even joined a sports team and did. . . well. . . ok, not really, but whatever.
I left shortly before the school year ended and moved to the California desert. The middle school I attended for less than two months was not all that impressive, and the students there were. . . in need of an attitude change. I weaseled my way into an average-size group and some of us stayed in contact all the way through high school. There was only ever one time, after a P.E. class that while changing in the girls locker room, I was pushed up against the locker and challenged to a fight. I forget why, but this girl freaked out at me and demanded that I meet her after school off campus. Being the cocky bastard I am, I waited for her, and she never showed. I don't know if she just forgot or didn't actually think the 'weird new kid' would have the balls to fight,
Proved her wrong. Booyah.
High school was a lot easier. I was accepted into a group of fellow weirdos and to this day we all (mostly) stay in good contact. I was still kind of an outcast, but we all were outcasts, refusing to conform to the normality and mundane lifestyle of the rest of the school. However, my senior year had to be spent in another school, far, far, away. But, of our group of friends, I was the last to go, taking my multi-artistic friend with me and away from her unfortunate living situation. It was rough, being a senior at a school where everyone had already picked their groups and didn't want to let anyone else in. I kept mostly to myself, occasionally meeting with a few other people who were in the same boat as me. The two people who helped me the most were this complete trouble maker of a girl (who had to transfer schools before the semester was over), and a wonderful boy who looks like a tall version of Syndrome from the Incredibles. (No, I'm never going to stop calling you that). He had pretty much became my movie buddy, and we spent a lot of time just wasting time in this town where there was nothing really to do.
When I moved where I am now with my editor, we kept mostly to ourselves. It isn't until now that we finally made a nice circle of friends, and we've lived here for TWO YEARS!!! For the most part I've gotten all my social interactions at work, and from school. I really didn't need much else. Even at work though, as much as I love my job, I still feel out of place. Most of the people there are part of a completely different culture than I, and though I respect their choices, I know it is not the lifestyle I want. It's kind of lonely sometimes, but we still have things where we can connect on.
It was the feeling of not belonging that inspired the post today. But, I'm going to keep doing what I do, because I know that I would rather be myself than have to force myself into a society where I don't belong.
So. . . F-y'all.
I had planned a much more profound ending, but right now, my stomach is killing me. Seriously. I am in pain. Well, gotta work in a half an hour. Oh well.
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