In praise of the average child
i received a call yesterday. This girl literally saw my face on an instagram story and thought it was time to ring me up and spend the next sixty minutes of my time listening to her talk about herself. About the amazing things she has written. About how fiercely motivated she is about her writing.About how she wants to create a clique, an army of 10,000 of her humans. People who would answer the call when she rang. But she did always have a talent for investing in people. I have to give her that. Then she talked about how many people have been floored with her immense talent. How many people are dying to work with her but she has her infinitely sharpened business wits about her. And decided that she could wait for the right opportunity. How she is one of a kind - because she is so cool. She is the one who has both sides of the brain sharpened to a tack - business smarts and creative genius. Firmly in place. And again, just how many men are besotted with her talent. At how she doesn't just juggle jobs. But she HAS to write because she is that writer. That kind of writer.
And i took a step back. To wonder why did she feel like she needed to put herself on display. For my benefit. Am I that cool? Am I seen as a nice doormat whom people can just taken for granted? Who will always listen while you rattle about youself? Is that she didn't feel love from places where she was supposed to? Strange mother. Disappointing now ex-husband. She who had such promise, who is so charismatic, not deserving of love? Must be a hard place to be. Or is this just classic overachiever complex? When they've spent so much time in the spotlight as a child.
Distinction. Bright. Excelling.
All words that were associated with them throughout their childhood. Medals, certificates, pictures in the newspaper, other parents yelling at their kids to be more like you - your childhood was filled with these markers that made you stand out as special. And then adulthood comes along - so humbling. When you could do really really well in your career, but one bad client can make you feel supremely shitty about yourself. Or one lonely marriage? Or an unimpressed child? Or losing your precious looks? Life has a way of humbling you. And then there is the painfully average child. Who was never special. Who was never great at sports. So plain to look at that you'd miss them. Where they even there? Report cards damned with "can do better" - a pronouncement that would follow them doggedly through life. That child who had no redeeming quality to make them stand out. So we spent a good portion of our lives, invisible. And we're so comfortable being invisible. That we grow into a fairly, i want to say secure, but that's not quite the word. maybe comfortable adults. Lousy career? No problem, we'll float on. Unlucky in love? We'll figure it out. Ridiculed for being clueless? What else is new?
We have learnt to not need to see ourselves through the eyes of others. No great shakes if they fail to see us or overlook us. Somewhere along our little plodding, middling life in the middle, we figured a ways to not be so sensitive. To not care so much. Cause it was so pointless to wait for approval that would never come. We were okay with being the wallflower. So we are never compelled with the overpowering need to call someone and spend the next 60 minutes giving ourselves a glowing review. We won’t win any awards for this, because you know, they havent started giving awards for this. But we’re okay with this as well.
