Be different

I love the association of being a writer with being weird. It suits me. I’ve never felt like I truly fit in, that I’m accepted for who and what I am.

This has nothing to do with other people, though I have had the odd person look down their nose at me, though that was more for being a stay at home mum and “not working”, than being a writer.

It’s more to do with me learning to live with and handle depression and anxiety. I know it’s something so many struggle with, and that so many others just don’t understand, but that’s life.

At forty-two, I’ve come to realise that it’s okay to be that bit out of step. Its what makes me me (and often drives my husband nuts, but that’s another story).

Just because I’d rather scrub the toilet than answer the phone, or have to work up the energy and courage to go into the shops doesn’t mean I’m not doing the best I can, and doesn’t make me weird (okay, it does, but not carry-someone’s-ear-in-my-pocket weird), it just means I have different coping mechanisms than some others.

Whatever your coping mechanisms (as long as it’s not along the lines of the ear in the pocket), do it if it makes you feel better and gets you through what you have to do.

Don’t be afraid to be different.

Don’t be afraid to stand out.

You never know who is watching, and maybe deciding it’s time for them to step out, just like you, and do what they have to do to cope.

Never be afraid to be the weird writer. Own that label. Wear it with pride.

Who knows, what you write, just as what you do, might just give someone that encouraging push to be who they are without fear of that out of step feeling (again, except for the ear thing. That probably shouldn’t be encouraged).

I’d say we should gather in force and march the streets, shouting or weirdness to the world, but as most of us are introverts as well, can I suggest we make cups of tea and coffee, and salute each other in spirit