I'm A Freak

My erstwhile therapist, Kathy, used to (gently) get on my case about using what she called the "S-word." Should.

I use that word a lot. A lot more than I should, anyway (ha!). Yesterday was the saddest anniversary I have in my life, but despite the sadness, I was still happy. I am a happy person; I think we were put on this planet to be happy and love each other (yes, I know, I'm a revolting, disgusting hippie). I wake up every morning with joy and energy, and I feel fulfilled by my daily activities and tasks. I have a lot of love in my life. I'm healthy (for the most part). I do a lot of stuff -- go out to the theater, to films, to club nights, to hang out with friends. I do a lot of other stuff, too -- read, write, contemplate nature and the meaning of the world. I am satisfied and happy with my life.

But. Part of me feels as though I shouldn't be. Part of that feeling comes from knowing that I can't give my family members the peace and satisfaction that I have in my own life. I wish I could just bottle it up and drop it on them, but I can't. And what really makes my insides twist is the thought that even though I am happy with my life, not everyone else is.

Here's an example. My dad used to take me out for special one-on-one meals together. During these meals, he'd invariably say something that was totally cheesed-out (or so I thought at the time). Something like, "You know, you can do anything you want with your life. You can do or be anything. You have the potential."

He thought I was brilliant. He was, clearly, biased. But maybe I am brilliant. It doesn't matter. What does matter is this: There are things I will not sacrifice my peace-of-mind for, and one of them is work. "But it would make your father so happy to see you be very, very successful," I feel I can hear disembodied voices intoning around me when I start to feel content with my life as it is. "You could do so much more; you have it in you."

The thing is, I don't think I do have it in me. I don't want to be a person who spends countless hours at work. I don't want to throw myself into a job for social recognition. (I would throw myself completely into writing books -- novels, self-help, whatever -- if given that opportunity, and that is something I am working on manifesting in my life. But being creative to me isn't work; it's not on the same level as going into an office every day and grinding out a product. The grinding out a product part might still be there, but it has its roots in joy and love for the effort itself.) I like my job, I like the level of effort I put into it and I like what I get in return. I'm not looking for bigger fish to fry, as such -- I'm looking to turn myself into a different kind of fish, but that is another story and a completely different professional/lifetime ambition.

But then I feel bad, like I'm disappointing the disembodied voices. I'm just not all that interested in pursuing fame and fortune (well, maybe a little bit of fortune, but just so I can do my own thing). I feel ashamed of my life -- my happy, fulfilled life -- because it's just there, being happy and fulfilled, while I work on parts of myself that are not immediately evident or even interesting to the rest of society: my spiritual status, my creative mind, my just plain having-fun agenda.

And because I'm ashamed, I'm afraid to put it out there and say, hey, this just isn't me. I am just not one of those people who's going to throw their lives into a publication, or a company, or a house, or a whatever. A cause? Maybe. A way of life? Sure. But a thing -- I am not interested in things. I'm interested in the intangible, questions about why we were put on this planet to begin with, what we are doing here, what we can do here. That's really it: Not just what we are, but what we could be. I don't accept that the way things are is just the way they ought to be. I think they can be better, and I'd like to help make that happen, and that is my priority in life.

And sometimes I just have to remind myself: I am okay. I might be weird to be all happy with my life and my job and my husband and my dog -- and so what? I am weird. I admit it. I have to stop "shoulding" myself. It's not that I "should" be more this or less that -- it's that I "should" accept who I am and revel in it.

Besides, every group needs a freak. It's not always easy to fulfill that need, but all I can do is try.