Owning It

 Wrote this one some time ago, and thought it should be posted to my blog. 

Owning It

 

I’m not certain if it was the ADHD or merely having a very active imagination, but the slings and arrows of outrageous criticism started when I was quite young. As time does, there are many details that are lost in the fog of the past and others that are clear as if they had just happened. The word “weird” sticks out in these memories, as I heard it so often.

“Why are you so weird?”
“That’s supposed to be a tree? It looks weird.”
“He listens to weird music.”
“It’s the way he talks. It’s just weird how he pronounces every sound!”

On and on, the comments flowed like a river of disapproval. Sure, there were other words that were thrown at me, but “weird” just stuck with me. Yes, I tried to be more like then, more “normal”, if only to get them to stop saying those things about me.

The more I tried, the more I felt like I wasn’t myself anymore. Even the Ritalin didn’t keep me from being “weird” in the eyes of my so-called peers. There was always something that they found “off” about me. It was in my teens that I learned how to wear the mask. I managed to stop myself from being too “weird”, and even found several cliques that I could relate to. I started to assert myself as someone who no longer would be pushed around.

Somewhere in my young adulthood, I had this vivid dream. So many of those who tormented me in my school years were there, and it would seem that they were trying to insult me as they had in the past, yet they couldn’t. They only thing that came from their mouths were:

“Why couldn’t I just say things that came to my mind as you could?”
“I wish I could have spoken as well as you.”
“My life sucks. That’s why I lashed out at you.”
“You were the bravest kid I knew then.”

Somehow, my subconscious was telling me that being called “weird”, among other insults, was just their jealousy. They had this concept of “normality” pounded into them so hard, that anyone who didn’t fit it made them feel uneasy, and anyone who was unafraid to break this “normality” was someone to be jealous of.

I woke up, and spent a good hour laying there, digesting all that my dream had revealed. What it boiled down to was this: I’m weird, and that’s a good thing. It’s part of what makes me unique, and occasionally thinking outside of the box we created for ourselves, or that others make for us.

From that moment, I kept that mindset that it wasn’t an insult, it was an affirmation: I’m weird. I’m unique. I’m different. I’m all this and more, and that is perfectly fine.

 

 

 

 

To all who have deemed me weird:

To all who have talked shit about me without even knowing me:

To all who couldn’t figure out why my explanations led to correct results:

To all who only thought with their fists:

To all who saw that rainbow flag on my car and yelled “faggot”:

To all who told me I’d never be able to do certain things:

To all who said “It can’t be done.” :

To all who gave me shit about being part of the Furry fandom:

To all who said I listened to the wrong music, wore the wrong clothes, had the wrong opinions:

I AM ME.

I WILL NEVER BE YOU.

YOU CAN’T MAKE ME.

I WON’T LET YOU.

I

AM

ME.
…and I’m ok with being me.

©2020 Scott Hickok