Ordinary

We all want to believe we're special. We struggle to find our way in the world, to find our place, to define ourselves. In the end, though we might want to be normal, to blend, to fit in, we also want to learn that there's something special, unique about ourselves.

Growing up, I struggled more with the fitting in than the standing out. I was good at academics, I enjoyed learning, so did it well. I wasn't able to necessarily to apply what I learned, but I was able, usually with effort, but with willingly spent effort, learn.

Except when things were HARD. But that's a different story about heart.

As I struggled with fitting in, I was often drawn to others who were the same. A small coincidence would draw me to another person as a moth to light. The sameness, no matter how artificial, was a balm, a salve, a calling that this is where I belonged, in this situation, with this person.

The older I become, the more sure of who I was, the comfortable I became with who I am, the more I was able to embrace my difference, the less overwhelming my desire to fit in became, the less needy I became, the less sure of destiny rearing its when an accidental sameness drew me to someone.

I've been reading Heather Armstrong's blog for uyears now, she's been writing for way longer. As with any dedicated reader of a blog which is open, personal and frequently updated, I felt "close" to Heather, in the sense I felt I knew her. In reality, it's an artifical comfort, she knows very little of me, other than perhaps a blank awareness of signing a donation check I sent years ago, or a hazy memory of the crazy woman who introduced herself at the Austin airport at SXSW last year.

Though the artificial (one-way) friendship is fake, the awareness of the parallels of our lives is not. She rejected organized religion far later than I did, but was driven to do well academically, lived in L.A., found the man of her dreams, is skinny without much effort, suffered unbelievable depression which was alleviated only by medication, had skin cancer. The list continues.

Each time I came across another similarity in the parallels of our lives, I was momentarily hit by a feeling of companionship, of destiny, of hey, this woman should be my BEST FRIEND, just look at how similar we are.

Until, I realized, no, we just have similar life experiences. And you know what? SO DO OTHER PEOPLE. Although aspects of my life are unique, if you look at the aggregate, my life is common. It's not a grand life.

I'm a statistic in so many aspects that it's painful to realize just how ordinary my life is.