I’m a Weirdo

Me being weird
Me being weird and cute

When I was a little girl, I always felt different. I could never define my differences.  Sometimes I thought it was about how I looked.   Other times it was about my imagination and how I liked to play. Not to say I wasn’t a confident kid, but I felt a little poorer, a little shorter and skinnier, a little weirder than my friends.  I was shy and afraid of water and loved to use curse words.  I was allergic to milk and slid chocolate candy bars under my pillow on Halloween and Christmas eve that I would eat when my parents went to sleep.  I hid in the bushes for hours when I thought I was in trouble. I would scare myself to sleep every night listening for every crack and pop in my house, imagining it was a monster breaking in that I must make believe I was asleep so he wouldn’t eat or kill me.  I played piano songs on the back of my teeth with my tongue and twirled my hair vigorously when I was nervous. I tried to make my family laugh with wigs and make up and I wore my sister’s dance costumes to the grocery store, just because. I dreamed about the neighborhood dog kidnapping me on a regular basis.  My mom and I were the only people I knew in town who took taxis.

I had a big imagination and most of my time was spent thinking about what I would be like when I grew up.  I always imagined myself as the most normal person in the world.  I would stop cussing and love to swim.  I would have plenty of money and eat anything I wanted and stay up late so I would just fall straight to sleep when my head hit the pillow.  I would have a family that never embarrassed each other and maybe even my own dog that I wasn’t afraid of.  I would be married to this guy who thought all of my idiosyncrasies were adorable and my kids would do all the things I never got to do.

The other day I caught myself saying this silly little mantra again about how I never thought this would be my life.  I got into a funk about being divorced and how afraid I am of not being the best mother I can be.  I thought about the people who don’t like me anymore and the people who don’t know me, but never did. I thought about the education and career choices I have made and how I could have taken a road more lucrative.

But tonight I’m wiggling out of that funk because I remember.  I remember that I must accept and love myself and my life.  If I keep trying to travel upstream, I will only stay in the same place and get really, really tired.  My life is very meaningful.  I may be in a spiritual crisis, but it is leading me somewhere, and I think that place might just be back to me.  I was imagining this “someone else” in all my fantasies, but it’s me that I take on this journey.  Every day I see, teach and talk to the most interesting and strange people and I love every minute of it.  Each time someone exposes some odd fact about themselves, I smile all over. We are extremely important and less than a speck in the universe.  I am a weirdo.  But so are you.

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6 thoughts on “I’m a Weirdo

  1. The weird in me bows to the weird in you. I am so grateful for you and what you make possible, the space you hold for all of us. Thank you.

  2. Dear Cindy… I thought I was the only weirdo!!! Hee hee hee… Love You! : ) Cheryl
    P.S. Thanks to your teacher training, I’m now teaching yoga in Colorado and am starting training in Crestte Butte with Shiva Rea!

    1. That is so awesome, Cheryl! I miss you a bunch! Now you will have to come and teach me everything you learn from Shiva Rea…she is amazing! Namaste and lots of love.

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