Why am I so Misunderstood?

Teacher AND Learner for life.

Teacher AND Learner for life.

 

Why am I so Misunderstood?

I’ve been asking this question for a long time. I think we all ask it every now and then, but there are some of us who face it a lot. I think I’ve figured out why it happens to me. And recently, I haven’t asked it anymore, I just get it. I get that people don’t get me, and that’s okay.

I’m not black and white. Yeah, yeah, I know none of us are, but I’m a ridiculous type of grey that makes absolutely no sense. Well, it does now (to me) after 31 years of figuring it all out.

Firstly, I come from a family with a single mum and one brother. I grew up playing Nintendo and Sega, and watched a lot of television. I had Barbies (whose hair was shaved and coloured with texta) and ate red frogs. I walked the streets with my mates, swearing and sticking my finger up at passing cars then hiding behind buildings, playing knock and run, climbing onto rooves of high schools with wheelie bins, and more that I won’t mention here.

Then, on the other hand, I was afraid to climb trees (go figure with the buildings), wore lots of frilly dresses, played tea parties, loved school, and did ballet.

Sounds like two different kids, huh? Well I’m the same now that I’m an adult. I love the best of both worlds. I’m a misfit to the tea party kids, and a misfit to the crazy kids. I don’t fit anywhere, and I’m finally coming to terms with that.

I love punk music and heavy metal, and Mariah Carey. I play violent video games (recently played The Last of Us – brilliantly creative!) yet, I wouldn’t hurt a fly … I don’t believe violence solves anything. I adore tattoos, adore them, but I believe a lady must leave much to the imagination. There are so many polar opposites in my personality, sometimes I think it comes across as if I don’t know myself. I suppose I didn’t, not really. But I’m getting there.

I realised I don’t have to fit a cookie cutter mould in order for people to understand me.

In fact, being this way, I’ve now got to the point where I find it hard to judge people at all. Yes, I get pissed off in traffic, but I mean REALLY judge people. I don’t care if you go door knocking because you think your soul will be saved if you convert others to your faith. I don’t care if you pierce your cheek, or hate tattoos, or don’t want kids, or have nine hundred for that matter, or aren’t a dog person, or tend to be negative, or surf, or paint kittens.

The ones who believe their way is the right way, or that they must be happier as they have it going on, are the most ignorant. Faithless people aren’t less happy, Christians aren’t less happy. Everyone is right, and can find a way to prove it. Once we let all of that righteousness go, then we might find a little more happiness within ourselves.

This post ended up being more of a rant … but there you have it.

We’re all a little misunderstood. But just because someone is different from you, doesn’t mean you’re better, or worse, just different.

PEACE HMC

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9 thoughts on “Why am I so Misunderstood?

  1. Love this one. Not sure if my previous comment came through because for some reason, it didn’t post as me automatically. Anyway I loved this post. Digging the face paint, too.

  2. I don’t know…
    I think most people feel misunderstood; it’s one of the reasons the X-Men comics have long been so popular. Which is not to take away from any of the things you’re saying about your life.

    However, there is a problem when people want to be accepted for their own “uniqueness” but are unwilling to accept others for theirs.

  3. as a poet who few understand, a writer who sometimes leaves the reader with a perplexed twist in their face, a desert Burner who travels 12 hours to wander in an even more desolate desert for inspiration, for someone who is listening to Respighi yet was on Jello Biafra’s from the Dead Kennedy’s election committee, I think I understand misunderstood.
    I think at nearly twice your age, I gave up on being “understood” a few decades ago and now I am satisfied with just being me.
    Now if they would just let me…I enjoyed the rant. You know when you read my blog, it will almost always morph into a rant…
    Hugs from the desert!

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