Living in the Silence

When I think about my childhood, I realize that I grew up in the silence. There was always something going on around me. Parents arguing, family fussing; you know the assumed amount of disfunction. So I made it a point to live beneath the noise. I found peace within myself. I made myself shy and I only talked to my imaginary friend. Yes. I had an imaginary friend. Let my mother tell it, she was concerned for my well-being. She sought counsel for my state of mind. She was informed that I was normal and just going through a phase. 

Her name was Grace. And to add to the insanity occuring in my household, Grace had a seat at the dinner table nightly. I remember my stepfather coming home and sitting in her seat. I let out a cry and explained that he had squished her. While my mother cringed, my stepfather politely apologized and chose another chair.

Another time, my mom had fallen asleep watching tv and I must have been bored because I caused a huge scene. I ran out into the living room screaming saying they were trying to get us and she had to hurry. My sister's gym teacher, who she complained about all the time had pulled out a gun to shoot me, my teddy bears, and my life size doll. My mother, who was initially fearful that an intruder had gotten into our home, finally realized my imagination was great and she decided to play along. She pulled out her imaginary gun and shot back. Obviously I couldn’t let that be the end, I resurrected her from the dead until I grew tired of the scene.

I know you’re probably thinking I was weird. And while yes, that is true, I was also great. I was creative and innovative and amazing. I had real friends. I played outside and like most, my cousins were the greatest friends of all. I enjoyed school and loved people. But sometimes, every now and then, when it got too loud, I created life within the silence.

Why am I sharing this thought?

As an adult, who still drifts in and out of the silence, I’ve realized how different I am. I am the perfect blend of an introvert and extrovert. I’ve built long lasting friendship with the most unlikely people. I am STILL weird. And I am so cool. I am a living, breathing contradiction. I am brutally honest but intentionally soft with truth. I am confrontational, but I consider all perspectives. I am sweet but my smile is so mean. I strive everyday to be gentle and kind but I am still snappy. And most of all, I am beyond empathetic but I cannot pick up on a social cue to save my life.

I don’t know if I am the only person that lives life this way. If I am, that’s okay. I’ve been comfortable being odd since my dad sat on my imaginary friend. If I’m not, we should all be awkward together. Boxes are not meant for people. We were simply born to stand out. And I don’t know if my story will call for a movement of being kind and mean, but I’m at least hoping that you don’t send your kid to counseling because he/she has an imaginary friend.