So many of my posts address the idea of being authentic and real rather than trying to fit a cookie cutter mold. I have nothing against people who do the latter; and I am secretly jealous of those who can. I wish I could be like so many others who fit society's ideal and naturally earn respectability, because their life form is traditional. Being on a , that is not a luxury I am privileged to have. I knew since high school I was a free spirit, but shut that down to try to fit in. I never did fit in. It appears trying to fit in just isn't a good path for me. Being a free spirit is an aspect of my light, so dimming it could only bring pain and sorrow.
Some of us, like me, have a very rich inner world. I suppose it is part of the artistic mentality. I used to think all this stuff going on internally meant there was something wrong with me. I was surrounded by so many people who seemed to be operating as if there was nothing going on inside like machines, and I couldn't fathom how they functioned that way. It wasn't until I began reading that I discovered an inner world is a natural part of being human. I read Pride and Prejudice and saw that Elizabeth had a very rich inner world with lots of observations as to what was going on around her just like me. I always related to Elizabeth, a grounded, sensible woman who would not compromise on the kind of man she would marry even if it meant being a spinster. I keep hoping if I don't compromise my well-being that I too will win my prize, not in a husband--but in a life that fits the free spirit I am.
The blog is a great gift to me, because it allows that inner world expression. I think not having that contributed to the depression. Although what I write may seem weird, as I write it I feel more human. And this makes the free spirit light shine just a bit brighter. I do note I don't fit into the mainstream community here, but rather than doing what I did in my youth and pushing down who I am--it is growing ever stronger. I know I probably will never fit in, but there is still the possibility to be a respected outsider. In a way, being an outsider could be a gift to the community, because I have a perspective that an insider could never have. This perspective is the springboard for out-of-the-box thinking that could be very useful here as we find society's box becoming more dysfunctional.
I think that we are all born free spirits--unformed and boundless. Some of us find a way to maintain that dimension while integrating well in society. Others shut that dimension down and suffer a kind of loss they cannot identify. Others are fully formed free spirits who are marginalized--some happy and some are miserably lonely--always feeling like they are on the outside looking in.
As I mentioned in another post I often go to for the sunset. There are some nice people there, mostly women. I can feel they have nothing to say to me. I know I don't fit in nor do I want to. They are living a traditional life I have given up for myself--a life that never fit me. For them it appears to work; for me it was a prison. I remember a time my life was taken over by domestic duties and upkeep of my house. With clinical depression such things were a low priority being barely able to get out of bed. I was often shamed for my terrible housekeeping by ignorant people lacking compassion for my circumstances. They still shame me today. However, I suppose--even if I was healthy, I don't think I would ever have been a great lover of domesticity.
Some women ridicule other women who don't cook or clean, treating them like useless human beings. I know there is no word for emasculating a woman, but that's how it feels when it is done to me--like I am being told I am not womanly, an outcast of my own gender. Those are not women I choose to know. We women are far more than our roles, and we have value regardless if we cook or clean. Whenever I meet a woman who proudly admits she doesn't cook, I want to hug her for her courage to speak the truth aloud.
I see myself following the path of Eleanor Roosevelt, a hero in her own right, who was miserably unhappy with and incompetent at her domestic duties--and then began to shine when that role was no longer her focus. If anyone was a free spirit, Eleanor Roosevelt was. Who could honestly say that Eleanor Roosevelt was a useless human being?
I hope one day that I can at last, as they say, "Let my freak flag fly." My flag is not all that freaky. It's actually rather conservative compared to most. It is bold, but yet not ostentatious. It has a quiet radiance, and yet it has uniqueness all its own. I misplaced it long ago, and it's taken most of my life to find it again. Now I am unfolding it and hope to find a flag pole soon. The next step will be uncovering the courage to wave it.
I end this post with a quotation from my hero about heroes:
"We do not have to become heroes overnight. Just a step at a time, meeting each thing that comes up, seeing it as not as dreadful as it appears, discovering that we have the strength to stare it down."