Back Sheep

Ever since my life was irrevocably changed at 8 years old, I’ve felt like I didn’t quite fit in anywhere.

Part of that was the dissociation, shame, and guilt I suffered after being molested by the younger son of the couple next door to my grandparents.

But the other part of that feeling is just how it is for me. I’ve always been different from most of the folks in my family.

My dad’s side is loud, obnoxious, loyal to a fault, deeply generous, and intensely loving in their own teasing, kind-of-mean way. They like football and beer, they don’t tend to talk about serious subjects much. I got teased by them all the time growing up because I was into books, art, philosophy, mythology, and dreamy stuff like that. Most of them are extroverts – lots of socializing, everybody in each other’s business, few boundaries.

Contrastingly, I’m an introvert. I listen three times more than I talk, crowds drain my energy, and yelling grates on my nerves.

Mom’s side is a little quieter, but they’re all still quite social. More boundaries, though, and I always liked that about my mom’s side of the family. There was more respect there for peoples’ individuality.

Anyway, up until recently I always felt a sense of discomfort during family gatherings because I never really felt like I belonged. I’ve always felt a little bit on the fringes because I didn’t like what they collectively liked, I didn’t want to talk, talk, talk; I value quiet and contemplation above parties and loud discussions.

Please don’t mistake me – I love my family. I love them fiercely. But I don’t always feel like I “get” them or that they “get” me.

It can be a terribly lonely feeling when you don’t feel 100% part of the group. Or even 80% part of the group. This culture we live in puts so much pressure on us to be part of the team, to blend in with the collective. And yet we also get these confusing messages to “just be yourself” and whatnot.

No wonder people are so confused about who they are.

This next part still aches a little, because I never admitted it to myself until one of my trusted confidants said it to me first:

I don’t always feel like I fit in with my nuclear family either.

Sometimes when I’m with my parents, my brother and sister-in-law, I don’t feel like I quite “get it.” I make jokes that nobody seems to follow, or I talk about something of interest to me and they look at me silently, as though I’ve told them I want to grow horns out of my head and eat grass.

Probably everyone feels like this to some extent, but if they do, they don’t seem to show it or talk about it much.

At any rate, the feelings can eat at you if you don’t love yourself much and don’t have a strong sense of your own desires, your own mind and heart – if you don’t take full responsibility for being who you are.

Or if you don’t celebrate who you are.

This is what I learned in my journey of healing and becoming who I’ve always been, digging out the me that was buried under a lifetime of trauma, repression, and cultural programming.

The more I’ve come to truly love myself and embrace what makes me tick, what sets my heart and soul on fire, the more these feelings of not fitting in seem to transform from something painful and alienating to something else I can love and celebrate about myself.

That probably sounds wacky.

But quite honestly, the more I accept myself – instead of expecting and needing others to accept me – the less it bothers me when I don’t seem to “get it” or when I don’t feel I really belong to the group. Any group.

I’ve found, over the years, that I’m not the only person to feel this way or to live in this kind of family dynamic. I’ve befriended other folks who feel like the black sheep of their family or immediate community, and so we become a family of black sheep. We honor and respect these things that make us a little different, and we see them as beautiful. Not weird. Not alienating. Not abnormal.

"Call it a clan, call it a network, call it a tribe, call it a family. Whatever you call it, whoever you are, you need one."

-Author Unknown

This past weekend I attended a family function and it was held at an area lake. So I got to be out in nature, which I love. I was able to spend quite a lot of time by myself, watching the birds and butterflies, sipping the fresh air, enjoying the sun on my skin.

I could have engaged in conversation with any number of relatives and small groups.

I chose not to.

Six months ago, I would have felt depressed and rejected over this time spent alone in a group.

But the spiritual expansion I’ve experienced over the last year has brought me to this point – where I embrace, and accept, and fucking ADORE more and more of myself every day. I’m opening up to things I’m truly interested in, exploring topics I’ve always been fascinated by but never researched out of fear that my family and immediate community would decide I was getting weirder and weirder. I was afraid to do things that I thought might make them ridicule me or look at me funny.

I was always so scared to do anything outside the tacitly accepted group dynamic.

That’s not the case anymore. And I don’t want, need, or expect them to understand me. I try to be understanding toward them, though, and I somehow understand and know that this change in me makes a big difference in how I feel, too.

When I’m more myself, and I let them be who they are as well, then the whole situation, environment, climate, whatever word you want to use becomes more open. If I don’t need them to accept and understand me because I accept and understand myself, then that tension releases. If I reach out to them in understanding and don’t try to force anything to happen, then that tension releases, too.

Interactions become more open. They can be them. I can be me. There’s no reason for me to feel isolated and alone if I’m 100% safe with me. I don’t need them to fulfill that need in me because I do it for myself.

The old angers I held toward some of my family members – the resentments, the bitter judgments, the dislike – these things soften. Almost all of it falls away. There are still some family members I don’t like. But that’s inevitable. And my not liking them doesn’t mean I can’t still love them.

So I love them for being them. I love me for being me.

I just let it all be.

I guess what I’m trying to say here is that once we love and accept ourselves, once we no longer try to make others fulfill this need in us, then feeling like a misfit doesn’t hurt anymore.

It, in fact, becomes something we can celebrate – or at least, I feel like I can celebrate it now. I hope others find that in themselves, too. The alternative is just too lonely and too miserable.

I’ve never felt more beautiful, and I’ve never been more accepting of or more in love with my black wool.

"The individual has always had to struggle to keep from being overwhelmed by the tribe. If you try it, you will be lonely often, and sometimes frightened. But no price is too high to pay for the privilege of owning yourself." – Friedrich Nietzsche