Here’s something I’d like to know:  How many people don’t feel on the outside of something?  I mean something they wish they could be a part of.  Cause if the answer is nobody, I think something could change for the better in me.

Last night I had a minor meltdown.  I’ll spare you the details, but let’s just say they pertain to a potent little box of issues I like to keep hidden way back in the furthest corner of my inner closet.  I like to forget it’s there.  I like to live blissfully unconscious of the ways it sat open on my lap most of my life, tormenting the heaven out of me.  “You’re ugly,” it liked to say.  “You’re way too tall.  You don’t look like a woman.  You’re laughable, actually.  If your friends weren’t so nice, they’d probably point and laugh at you.”  That kind of thing.  And much, much more.

Well, the box got dislodged last night and spilled all over the place, and today I have the pleasant task of cleaning up the mess.  I have enough distance from the issues to be able to recognize their “truths” as bullshit, and their voices as far more to do with some twisted kind of self-protection than any accurate portrayal of my beauty or worth.  But that doesn’t keep me from feeling their weight, and the weight of the effects they’ve had on so much of my life.  They’ve made me feel like a pitiful outsider.

They’ve made me feel like an outsider of some desirable club of people who are beautiful and confident and clever and outgoing and world-wise and SHORT.  People who know how to dance and dress stylishly and say just the right things.  People who look good without a shower, who’ve read the right books and somehow know all the people I don’t.  And they like to travel.  They like to travel and they actually do it, and they’re completely unintimidated by new situations and cultures and people.  They thrive on such things.  They don’t have very much they need to hide.  They’re good with a camera.  They always have close friends available to hang out with them and when they get together they sip on wine that they didn’t pick just because the bottle was pretty.

Oh, I could go on.  And isn’t this what’s laughable, really?  Who belongs to this club?  How many people?  Any at all?

I have this hunch that if it could sink deep into my bones that we’re all feeling like we’re not in the club, I’d actually feel…part of it.  Does that make sense?  I’d feel like I’m on level playing ground, finally, with everyone.

So tell me the truth:  is there anyone who feels like they’re actually on the inside?  And if so, have you discovered their secret?

This entry was posted on Wednesday, June 29th, 2005 at 12:35 pm and is filed under Healing, Psychology, Bridge-building. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.