Worth the effort?

I’ve really never been one to hold back on expressing what I think or how I’m feeling. The paragraphs that follow are filled with thoughts that I know many of my readers may or not be able to relate to. I try to be as positive as I can in my day to day interactions and exchanges.  I certainly had no intent when I started on my blogging journey to delve into what may be deemed more difficult matters. There are advantages of typing what might be perceived as tough to express as my face is like an open book in that you can pretty well tell a myriad of emotions I might be feeling or thoughts I might be thinking upon an initial glance. It’s been both a blessing and a curse but I digress. 

What follows is definitely not my cup of tea. And I know for certain that I am not everybody’s cup of tea. That’s okay. I appreciate and respect that and, quite frankly, I’ve never felt a desire to be. This is not a cry for help or an “o, woe be gone is me!” post. However, there comes a point in every person’s life when he or she wishes to feel worth the effort. I don’t always feel that way. I’ll be the first to confess that I am awful when it comes to picking up the phone to check in with anybody. However, the phone works both ways. And like the old expression goes, “The road to hell is paved with good intentions.” Proverb or a Randy Travis lyric, it has an element of truth. Not much is accomplished on best intent alone. Don’t get me wrong. I do know that I have a number of wonderful people in my life and I know I’ve impacted a number as well. As always, I will continue to count my blessings.

Imagine being the person who, at times, feels like an after-thought. The chagrin I’ve felt on occasion over these past number of years has, at times, become common. The best way I can describe it is through the following ridiculous analogy. It’s like being the odd cousin or relative that each family has but nobody wishes to acknowledge fully. They’re okay to speak with at a huge family gathering but nothing more. Yes, I have turned down some invitations because I couldn’t be bothered to feel like a bother. Despite the flaming cheeks and embarrassment that comes with such an admission on my part, it’s okay. In Stephen Chbosky’s “The Perks of Being a Wallflower”, the protagonist comes to many realizations. These resonate: “So, I guess we are who we are for a lot of reasons. . .” and “You see things. You keep quiet about them. And you understand. You’re a wallflower.” I have commiserated with my husband, some family, and friends about that which I expressed here.  It’s pathetic sounding, I know, but life surely is filled with both moments of pathos and great joy and the moments in between deserve attention.

Some of the experiences of my forty-one year old self are not much different than my experiences as a teenager growing up in out-port Newfoundland. I have many great memories but with the exception of some friends I am still in touch with today, I honestly never fully felt accepted by my peers all in the years I lived there. I’ve felt it at various stages of my life and it continues on occasion. I pride myself on being a kind, strong, accepting, and confident woman and am trying my best to instill that same awareness of self into my kids. I am caught up in the joy and craziness that is raising a family, a full-time career, and extra-curricular activities. My life and my heart are very full. I guess given the place and circumstances, insecurity has a way of rearing its ugly head. I suppose, as well, I have more time to ponder when I am not rushing from point “a” to point “b”. 

The clique mentality is not something that goes away in girlhood. It travels well beyond the school yard’s gates and onto the streets of these neighbourhoods we inhabit. I’d be lying if I said the sting of apparent or perceived rejection hasn’t hurt me. What separates me from the person I was last week, last month, or last year, for instance, is that I’ve stopped caring as much. As I move forward from this post, my focus will continue to be on the people, pugs, activities, and things that help complete me. I KNOW I am worth the effort. I’ll keep marching to my own drummer as I’ve always done – no matter how distant or far away.