Thoughts on comformity . . .

 

“Conformity is one of 

the most fundamental dishonesties of all. 

When we reject our specialness, 

water down our God-given 

individuality and uniqueness, 

we begin to lose our freedom. 

The conformist is in no way a free man. 

He has to follow the herd.” 

~Norman Vincent Peale  

 

It seems I’ve always walked a few steps out of beat with those around me. I’ve always kind of felt like a round peg trying to fit into a square hole. I guess some might think me a bit odd. I am quiet and shy, yes, really.  And I am very reflective. I think alot. I have always been a thinker.  

It was that shyness and the fact I was quiet and reflecive, a deep thinker that made me a target when I was in my younger years in school. I was okay for the first few years, but about the age of 10, that all changed. for some reason I became less confident and assured and that made me a magnet for any person around me who might have been feeling less than confident themselves.  Oh, but I was teased and tormented mercilessly. Called names, made fun of, etc.  

In short bullied.  

 

 

I am so grateful that we did not have social media back then or I might not be here today. At least when I was at home I was somewhat safe from their barbs and arrows, their torments.  I don't know how children who are being bullied today cope with it. They have no place that they can go to get away from it. 

It was particularly bad in grades 8 and 9.  So much so that I was actually ill from it.  Literally physically ill. I can remember being off from school for a full two weeks one time because of it. There was no cable tv to occupy me at home either, and my teachers sent my school work home for me to do. 

For some reason the kids at school decided I must be a lesbian because I didn't date boys. I wasn't allowed to date until I was sixteen, and so I didn't. I had really strict parents who expected me to follow their rules and I followed them. 

I had no friends because girls were afraid to hang around with me for fear they would be painted with the same brush.

It was a very lonely and hurtful, excruciatingly painful, couple of years.  I can totally understand the heartache of teens who find themselves feeling different and confused isolated, etc. I wish I could convince all who are going through it that this will not be their forever life.

 

All those things I went through, however, helped to make me a much more compassionate person. So it was not all bad. I would never treat anyone in the way I was treated. It was despicable to be honest.

We moved before the advent of Grade 10 and I used that  move somewhat to re-invent myself, although I would carry the slings and arrows, the pinpricks and wounds of those few years . . .  for the rest of my life. I carry them still. The main difference is that now I use them to strengthen me rather than to tear me down.

 

 I am a special individual, unique in all ways, and I love who I am and who I’ve allowed myself to become. I still walk a few beats out of step from everyone else, but I am quite proud that I do. I love that I stand out in a crowd. I’m still a bit of an odd duck, but I love my oddness. It works for me. 

 

I have come to recognize my God-given talents and embrace them, explore them, use them . . . I relish every opportunity which comes my way to share them with others and to help them in some way if I can. Isn't that why we are given  them?  

 I tend to look at my life like a huge piece of embroidery that I have been working on for years, quite different than anyone else’s, but every bit as beautiful and even more so in some ways for it’s individuality. I have stitches here and stitches there, it’s randomness creating something quite wonderful and unique and special, this tapestry of my life. 

 

I suppose when it’s finally finished I will be able to look back and count all the stitches and be quite proud of my accomplishment, but in the meantime I’m just enjoying creating it, in my own unique and beautiful way. 

 

 

Good news on the apartment front.  That place is mine.  I just have to wait for the family of the previous owner to vacate it. Apparently she died and her stuff is all still in there. Because of Covid they have not been able to travel down to remove it. They are still paying the rent so for now it is still theirs.  But once it is vacated it will be mine. I have told him I do not care how long it takes (although obviously I am hoping it won't be too long) I am willing to wait. It is in a prime location and exactly what I need. Thank you so much for your happy thoughts. 

Were you lucky enough to see the full moon last night? Wasn't it beautiful? I wish I had taken a photograph of it. The snow moon. 

 

Speaking of snow  . . . 

 

 

My Island boys had a snow day.  Josh used it to bake and he is quite a little baker.  He baked 5 loaves of bread and two dozen rolls, plus lemon buns and they all looked great! My ex always baked beautiful bread. He must be following in his grandpa's footsteps!

I best leave you now with a thought for the day . . . 

° * 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ •
•。★★ 。* 。
° 。 ° ˛˚˛ * _Π_____*。*˚
˚ ˛ •˛•˚ */______/~＼。˚ ˚ ˛
˚ ˛ •˛• ˚ ｜ 田田 ｜門 ★
 *.˛. I will not let anyone

walk through my mind

with their dirty feet.

~Mahatma Ghandi•。★★ 。* 。 

 

In The English Kitchen today . . .  Lush Lemon Poundcake.  Lovely! 

Have a wonderful Saturday. We are going grocery shopping. I love grocery shopping.  Whatever you get up to, don't forget! 

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And I do too!