Sunday, June 28, 2009

circle the object that does not belong (hint: it's not you...)

Kids do them all the time: Pick the person or thing that does not belong in the set. They're usually incredibly easy. Celery doesn't belong in a fruit basket. A giraffe doesn't belong in a barnyard. A winter coat doesn't belong with a collection of beach toys. But when we grow up and have to try to live in the real world, it's much harder to figure it out. (As usual I can't see it beforehand, and end up having to do it the hard way.)

Recent events in my life have left me pondering more than usual about all the places where I just don't belong. I'm not talking about places like the auto parts store, where I feel uncomfortable but can usually figure it out or ask for help. I'm talking about the places where it's clear that my presence is unwanted or even unwelcome, and my gifts are unappreciated. At what point is it reasonable to start wondering, "is it everyone else, or does the problem lie with me?"

When I was in kindergarten at South Christian, I came home every day crying. I remember mornings when I would sob and beg my parents not to make me go to school. I don't remember how long it was, but they moved me to another parochial school. At the beginning I liked it, but in retrospect I don't know that I would say it was any better. During one Bible class when I was in kindergarten, I told their minister that I was saved and he told me that I wasn't. In first grade, one of the other girls picked me up and told me that I was too small to be in first grade and that I should go back to kindergarten. I was a small child and never fit in with the rest of those sturdily-built Dutch kids. I never fit in with them socially either; I usually managed to have one friend, and I got invited to birthday parties the first few grades (though I'm sure it was because the other girls' mothers said they had to invite all the girls in class so as not to be rude, or perhaps because they felt a little sorry for me), but I was never one of them. I toughed it out through 8th grade and then left for high school in the public school system.

To say that high school was a shocking change would be an understatement. I went from a class of ten to a class of at least three hundred. At the beginning I was sick to my stomach for at least a week straight because I was so nervous. By my senior year, though, I had figured it out and was eager to graduate and get away from the parts that I didn't like about it: the he-said/she-said rumor mill where everyone lives life under glass. I was in choir the first three years, but quit my senior year because of all the politics. The same kids always got the solos and the parts in the musicals.

In college I joined the riding team, but never fit in there either. The rest of the girls were a like a clique and I never managed to find a way in. At away shows, I wanted to go to bed at a reasonable time and have it quiet so I could sleep. They wanted to stay up and hang out with each other, almost like a sorority. In the morning they would get up early to take showers and do their beautification routines, while I would sleep in (having showered the night before) and didn't bother with makeup. The last year I competed, the team doubled in size after the table at Bronco Bash netted several new members. I made friends with a few of those girls and am still friends with them today, although I ended up quitting the team because of the coach and because I was no longer a full-time student.

When I got my Z28, I was so enthusiastic that I joined a discussion forum and later also joined a car club. The majority of the members were interested in mod-fests, but I just wanted to hang out with other people who loved their cars. I ended up having to leave after the dictat--er, I mean president was very unkind to me. Only two or three people noticed that I left, and cared enough to ask me what happened.

When I started reenacting and met someone who would end up being my boyfriend for almost four years, I joined the group to which he belonged. I was the only female member, and was told that I was not allowed to vote or hold office. Trying to find a way to contribute to the group (because the only people who ate the food I brought to or made at reenactments were my boyfriend and a few of his friends), I started working with one of the other members to create a website for the group. For two years he and I tried to get the group to go for it, but they never did. After the umpteenth time the group voted to table the idea, the secretary created his own website for the group. My only way to contribute was taken away. ...That's the shortened version of the story, and doesn't really make it sound as terrible as it was. I left that group and now do not belong to any group at all. Fortunately I'm a civilian reenactor so it doesn't matter so much, but I'm still left feeling that "here's another situation in which I don't belong."

In my life I've left two churches. The first time I was still a kid and left because my whole family left. I don't remember any details about why we left, just that we didn't like the direction in which the church seemed to be headed. Along with several other "concerned members" from that congregation and other local congregations, we formed a new church. After several years that church forced my parents to resign, threatening disciplinary action. After they left I stopped attending; how can I attend church at a place where my parents are not welcome? The church consistory threatened me when my absence grew longer and longer, and I resigned my membership.

Now I have been forced to stand up for my personal beliefs by resigning from my part-time church job. I have not yet decided if I will continue to sing in the choir there. On the one hand, I feel very blessed to be able to praise God through music; on the other, I am not sure if I can be comfortable there even if I am just singing in the choir. Fortunately I have until after Labor Day to figure out that part of the situation.

Thankfully there are places that I do belong: with my family, with my small handful of friends, in the barn, at work at my main job. But I still wonder why I don't do well in group situations. Is it others, or am I the problem?

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