Someone Like Me… and You

IMG_3358 “What’s someone like me doing in a life like this?” is playing on my phone as I begin my evening rituals, stripping layer after layer of color and product from face and hair. First the mascara and eyeliner, then the shadow, the face powders, the fixatives holding my hair in place, … Cyndi Lauper’s little known lyrics strike a chord. This song has resonated with me since I moved to Utah more than twenty years ago now. Tonight, though, is one of those nights when thoughts flow more like a waterfall then a gentle stream.

*

“Why are you moving to Utah?” was the question everyone asked when this liberal activist from Portland, Oregon said she was leaving. Bets were placed about how long she’d last in the conservative Wasatch Front. That was 1991.

“What brought you to Utah?” is still a question she struggles to answer.

“How much do you want to know?” She giggles in reply. Sometimes life just needs a reset button. That’s what Utah was, a completely new start.

*

Tea in hand, makeup removed and  hair at ease, I sit to enjoy the quiet time after everyone else has gone to bed. Sipping on the peppermint and breathing deep, I am struck by the fact that my quip shared with multiple do-gooders at tonight’s fundraiser is no longer necessary.

I’ve lived more than 20 years feeling I do not belong and am so different from my peers. When I received my last promotion I actually worried I would not be included in key decisions–wouldn’t be part of some “cool kids” vision I had created of my organizational hierarchy.

“Should I start getting my nails done, maybe get facials? What about my clothes… will they be okay?” My sweet husband just listened and offered “Do what makes you feel good.” Not very helpful advice, or so I thought at the time, but apt nonetheless.

*

“Look, Sarah, I even wore heals tonight!” my boss laughed as we walked into the event.

Wait a minute! Was my gorgeous, experienced, always financially stable supervisor actually self-conscious about her appearance and how she might be perceived by others? I thought about this all night.

It’s true I dress differently than any other in my position. My liberal streak shows in my flowing scarves and sari skirts. My commanding presence is made known with each assertive stride in my funky heals. And my hair is a different set of colors every six weeks.

It’s also true that I was raised and lived, and still live, quite differently than my peers. The abuse and addiction in my home shaped me and sculpted my strong spirit. The broken souls welcomed into my home as a child taught me gratitude–and how to learn from everyone I meet. I was no “cool kid” with my movement from school to school, protected only by the strong characters in my books.

Now look at me. What’s someone like me doing in a life like this? How dare I spend the last several months feeling somehow less-than when I have come so far and found a way to do so much. And, worse, how dare I assume others do not have their own insecurities and, instead, only judge and hold themselves above others. I was the one who was judging.

How can someone like me be so judgmental? How could I just assume this group would not accept me?

*

I always told my students “don’t ever let anyone else be right about who you will become; prove to them that you are only who you choose to be–and surpass all expectations!” I like to think I’ve done this. But sometimes, even someone like me, wallows in her little girl fears and insecurities. Tonight reminded me that maybe we all do this on occasion.

So, what’s someone like me, and someone like you, going to do? How can we remember our own greatness and embrace our own ability to connect and empathize with others?  In a life like this, it would do us all some good to remember that we all have our challenges and our worries, but we’re all in this together.

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