I've had a lot of time to think lately. (Mainly because this pregnancy joint pain wakes me up at least every hour and I stay awake about an hour or so near morning. And there's nothing else to do.) And a lot of that time, I think about how I wish I had some friends who are like me.
But maybe I do.
But maybe I don't. Herein lies the dissociation problem. (Also, the fact that I use words like "dissociation" in casual conversation. Annoying.)
Adults are supposed to know who they are. I know who I am. Clearly, I am an extremely hardworking but wholly unambitious lower-middle-class wife and mother who loves country music, is very strongly socially conservative, enjoys board games, card games, lawn games, and is known to go overboard a bit with not-so-fancy crafts, like crocheting, and with reading. Physically, it's apparent that my athletic pursuits are important, and it looks like it. (As my grandmother once said, "You always did go for those roughneck sports.") And my evangelical Christian faith is a strong foundation for everything I (intend to) do. I dislike anything that seems sophisticated or pretentious and most hobbies that require electronics. My sense of self is somewhat over the top, too; whatever it is, I'll find a better way to do it. This all seems obvious to me.
But maybe it's not so obvious.
Definitely I'm not part of the lower middle class, if I ever was. We live in a nice house that doesn't require work. My engagement ring diamond has some type of impressive stats (but you'd have to ask Jeff what those are.) We have two vehicles in good repair. We aren't in debt.
Wholly unambitious? I am, on the inside. But I also have two graduate degrees with a 4.0 GPA for each. And multiple academic awards and recognitions. And I'm a professional editor. So maybe that's not coming across right. Maybe people see the facts instead of how I know I am. I remember one time, when I so strongly did not want to go to college because I couldn't see the point of it all, my dad saying something like, "You can't clean rooms at Best Western your whole life." And I said, "Why not? I like it." I wasn't being antagonistic; I just couldn't see the point. (And still it doesn't matter that much, all that education. Sometimes it feels like a burden, like I "learned" so much but I still feel like the same rational, assiduous thinker who has not been converted to liberalism. But that's too political an explanation.) And apparently there's something about me that says "educated." I can't pinpoint it––diction, topics of interest, Friends of the Library volunteer position, who knows?
And liking a certain type of music doesn't necessarily say anything about a person. Games? Non-electronic hobbies? Hmm... I am on Facebook quite a bit. (Though, really, what a lifesaver when otherwise you mainly talk to a toddler in your free time.) But my disinterest in movies, tv, computer/video games belies my interest in being outside! doing things! staying in motion! getting stuff done! As a side note, I'm a little bit horrified that we have a computer, a large tv that is hanging on the wall, an iPod, SiriusXM, and an iPad (though in defense of that, I won it in a contest for reading a lot of books. Real paper books).
And athletics. Pshww. I haven't looked like an athlete in, like, three years, and I haven't been an athlete in one year and counting. Random guys rarely check me out. (This could be because of my adorable, constant sidekick, though. I'm not sure. Not really tuned in to that––just aware that fewer people whistle out their car windows nowadays.)
So I don't know. There's no conclusion to this rambling post. I just feel like the person I am is nothing like the person I seem like. I'm sure that's how most people feel to some extent (and what are your contradictions? Or is this something you don't think about?)
And then how do I make friends? Real friends, maybe with some commonalities. Or maybe at least who don't care about the dissociation or who aren't put off by the few things about which I feel extremely strongly even if they disagree?
In all this thinking, though, there's one thing for sure that I'm not the same now as I always have been. I don't feel the need to escape anymore. Seems like my whole life was moving, moving, moving, being different, trying something new, going somewhere else, making new friends, not being trapped... But then I met Jeff. Same ol' story. But it's true. It seems like with Jeff I can just stay here––in a place where the culture and the city-ness and the sheer number of people and school zones and entertainment options and other accoutrements never seem routine to me––and maybe it will be okay. I might not get used to it, but that's okay. Maybe I'll never get used to hanging out with people who wear makeup every day, either, or put a lot of effort into decorating their houses or dressing their children fashionably, but maybe that will be okay, too. (Little boys' smocked clothes, though, uhhn-uhh, can't get used to that.) It's working out, taking Jeff into consideration. These other things don't matter. And I have friends who know me and who are not like me elsewhere, and the differences and similarities aren't that important (I'm talking about you, Jennifer and Maria!).
So that's that. Nothing like a little light thinking to cheer me up during the nightly insomnia.
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