I am often wrong. I am ok with this for being wrong is a part of the growth process. I would think going from start to finish with nothing in between is difficult. This awareness of my erroneous, ultimately human, nature gives me a quiet strength. I possess the strength to fail, in a number of situations. I will do my best to learn from my failures and make my next attempt a better one. For me, a critical difference is now is how much value I give on the judgment of others upon me failing. I still find myself afraid to act for I fear the consequences of my actions from other people. However, now there are times when I am able to consider other people’s thoughts and feelings but be able to make my own conclusions. The strength to fail.
As I further ponder what ‘strength’ is, the word confidence creeps into my mind like an exile seeking redemption. I stare at myself in a mental, proverbial, mirror. Have I gained a measure of self-confidence along the way? I must have, for I cannot banish the word again. My internal monologues and I look at each other with an almost frustrated resignation. I understand I’ve been making a sincere effort to practice advocating for myself, something that I am still a noticeable novice at, but that effort wouldn’t exist without the self-value behind it.
Recently, I was listening to someone else share their views and experiences. This is something I do most frequently, but this time was different for I had heard the majority of this story before. The storyteller was not new to me either, and my mind may have been wandering somewhat. However, towards the end this storyteller compared two places of residence and remarked upon only the former had a sense of belonging, not the latter. What was more, the storyteller in, the current domicile, made no effort to belong. This struck me: ‘a feeling of belonging.’
Do I belong, anywhere? I am often the outlier anywhere I go. I don’t: watch, play, listen to, eat, think, etc., the same things most people do around here. It took me years to feel comfortable in my own house, in my own skin. I still, even writing this, would choose non-existence without hesitation if given a quick pain-free option, and that isn’t even me being upset. The majority of my art, for quite some time, centered around loneliness: what it is, and how it affected me. I did not belong.
I took my quiet understanding of my lack of belonging, combined it with a manic phase and got a mohawk. @#$% it, why not? If one has nothing to lose, one can adventure without fear. I did it on a whim, but people noticed. It’s hard not to, it’s the only one around. However, it was a hit. I also wear kilts, pretty much every day. Not to specifically be different, they’re just comfortable; having massive pockets is nice as well. Naturally, I was rather conspicuous. In the beginning, I would notice the glances and strange looks. I quickly realized though, I wasn’t affected negatively, but instead it was the opposite. Receiving positive feedback about the hair, and being forbidden to cut it was nice. I was empowered. Yes, I was different, but I belonged somehow.
It has been over a year now, of mohawk and kilts. I don’t even remember being different anymore. It’s just me, and I’m alone but not lonely. Some of the people who see me with any degree of regularity tend to have an interesting quirk: they pick on me if I ever wear something bifurcated. If I look more normal, then it’s weird. I happen to enjoy that. I belong ‘out there,’ whatever that may be. I am the thoughtful dissenter. I am the anomaly. I may be challenging, but I learned that in order to belong you don’t just sit back and wait for others to tell you it happened. No, a feeling of belonging is something you create for yourself. You earn it through your actions, not by it being handed to you. Advocate for yourself, be you – whatever that may be. If something doesn’t work out, try something or somewhere else. In the long run you will find where you belong if you put in the effort, even if where you belong is more or less by yourself.
12 September 2018
Monk Anchorwind