All the Difference

My mother always maintained that I was "born different". For many years, I had no idea what she meant. Later, I thought that she was just full of crap. These days, I know she was right.

I am different. In what way, I can't say. I just have that quality about me that sets me apart from the masses for whatever reason. Maybe someday I'll understand it, but probably I never will. It's just something some people have. I'm an eccentric (in the true sense of the word, "Departing from a recognized, conventional, or established norm or pattern," and not meaning the euphemism which equates eccentricity with insanity).

My mother was, is, and always shall be a conformist of the first order. If people can be born different, they can also be born the same, born to follow the flock. My mother is a sheep, easily led, not all that clever most of the time, and if she ever does wander away from the flock too far, someone (my father, the media, organized religion of one sort or another, neighbors, society in general, etc.) will be sure to push her back into the flock.

Personally, I don't think very much of sheeple. I don't like them. I find them stupid and boring. I resent them somewhat, as well, for their ability to just bleat along with the crowd and blindly ignore anything outside their little world of pre-conditioned thoughts and ideas; life would probably be a lot easier if I were one of them, but that's another rant for another day.

And I've known for a long time that the sheeple don't like eccentrics. Well, some of them watch us with sort of stunned and horrified fascination, but mostly we're punished for our failure to conform. We're punished for not being "one of them" (me, bitter? you betcha!). We're frightening. We're confusing. We exist and think and move in ways and places that the sheep don't, can't, and never want to go, or even know about. Nothing will piss you off more than someone or something that makes you think about stuff you'd rather avoid, you know what I mean?

So why has it taken me thirty-nine years to figure out that my mother was afraid of me, resented me, was confused and maybe a little awed by me, and that she didn't like it?

My mother's whole world is built on "how things are done" and then I came in and thought, said, and did things totally differently and it completely upset her little apple cart. Naturally, this was not to be allowed, and she did everything in her power to try to force me to conform. For years I did try to do that, actually, although inwardly, secretly, in rooms in my heart and soul and mind around which I built dissociative walls, I remained true to myself. I remained an eccentric, and I would not be forced to conform or to change my own orbit to suit her or anyone else.

My daughter, Zoë, was "born different". She was breech, for a start, so she came into the world bass ackward. She's also got a couple of developmental delays (specifically in the areas of verbal communication, both understanding and expression). She's a lot like me in a lot of ways, my Zoë (although I don't have any language disabilities). She's smart and charming and affectionate and eccentric, and she won't be made to conform, disability or not.

The thing is, I see Zoë's "differentness" as beautiful and special. I certainly believe she needs some help in learning to communicate verbally and possibly in a couple other areas, but overall, I think she's a wonderful kid with tremendous potential.

Viva la difference.

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