Weirdo

I’ve been obsessed with a bumper sticker I saw recently: You want to be different, but you’re afraid of being strange.

Maybe not everyone wants to be different. When I was young, I downright avoided being different. I didn’t want to stand out, ‘be weird,’ or make myself noticeable in any way. It was easy. Like teenagers have done for all of time, all I really had to do was copy what everyone else was doing. I listened to the same music, pursued the same activities and followed the same linguistic patterns as my peers.

I remember my Mom suggesting that I try to be different. I’m sure you heard it, too…”If everyone else was jumping off a cliff, would you do that, too?” I had to think about it. I understood what she was saying, and even valued the idea of being different; of standing out amongst a crowd. But, would I? Obviously, I wouldn’t jump off a cliff, but the idea of looking different from everyone else felt terrifying.

Still, I thought about it a lot. Her words stuck with me, and early in my career, I remember her applauding me for working at unusual places, and doing a job that she deemed different from ‘the usual’ careers people were pursuing. She was proud of me.

But then something interesting happened. I bought tires. Yep, that’s it. One of the most standard things among standard things. And it exposed a simple fragmentation in my Mom’s thinking. Recommended by the tire shop, I bought tires she didn’t agree with. She didn’t believe they were quality.

“Everyone buys the tires I told you to buy. They’re the best,” she said. I had to pause. “But, you’ve always told me to be different,” I said.

To her, buying tires had nothing to do with ‘being different.’ Maybe it didn’t, but it was the first time I realized that she appreciated ‘different’ as long as it was, well, like her. It was after this that I started noticing this theme among many things I did. Turned out, she also didn’t seem appreciative or proud of moments when my creativity was applauded. Or when she did, she shoved her way in, raised her hand and said, “She got that from me.”

It had been subtle, but I noticed that I’d squelched my creativity my entire life…because in the end, it wasn’t mine. I was either conforming with my friends, or doing what I was told. And that was safe. It took a long time for me to even unearth what it was/is that makes me stand out. Then, I had to come to terms with sharing the things that do.

Am I brave enough? Is what makes me different interesting? Why do people care?

In some ways, this website - this post - is me ‘bravely’ stepping out around the corner, eyes peering the environment for safe spaces. I have to trust that someone might find it interesting, or care. Or, maybe they won’t and I’m just the person who shouldn’t care.

Photo Credit:  Eric Prouzet @eprouzet