Fish Out of Water

Sunday, January 17, 2010

Growing up I longed to fit in. I just wanted to be “normal”, whatever that means. But I was a fish out of water. I went to a socially cut-throat private school from K-12. My graduating class boasted a whopping 46 students, 23 of whom had been my classmates since kindergarten. Needless to say, we lacked variety. Most of my earliest playmates were the children of my parents’ friends. Not really kids I chose to hang out with, just the ones I was thrown in with by default.

I often say I was a dork in school. And that is still true- I was. I also openly admit to being a dork now. That has not changed either. But in school, I was the girl who was on the fringe of the popular kids. I was invited by familial default, and later excluded by design. I didn’t come into my own until my 20’s, so in my years as an awkward middle and high-schooler, I looked to others to define who I was. I was certain they knew the answer to all my questions about myself. And I wanted “their” stamp of approval and acceptance. Oh the elusive “they.” Some days I wish I had been a complete outsider, and maybe that would have forced me to find my own way sooner. But I know that plight comes with it’s own brand of suffering, too. And the grass is always greener, right?

It’s funny (in a sad funny kind of way) how I still feel the aftershocks of those school years. And they crop up without warning. This weekend, David and I are in Florida at the 30A Songwriters Festival. I didn’t know what to expect because we’ve never been to this festival before. Actually, no one has because this is the first year for the festival. There have been a couple of welcome/kick-off parties for the artists. The festival organizers have really worked to make us feel welcome. We went to a party the other night and I found myself spinning. It was one of those moments where my brain said, “Look around, K.C. Everyone here already knows each other. And you don’t know anyone. What are you going to do, walk up to strangers and try to fit in? Good luck with that.” So I stood frozen (figuratively and literally because the party was outdoors).. but mostly frozen in my fear, which is an awful captor.

And here are two truths I never remember in moments like that party:

1. Everyone is scared. Every single one of us is scared of something, and we’re often scared of each other, and too scared to admit it. What a racket we’ve created for ourselves. We are so good at keeping up appearances, that we fool each other into believing our own bullshit smoke and mirrors act. No one has it all together. And if I could figure out how to cut through my fear and all the mind-numbing small talk at functions like that, I might actually engage in a conversation that reveals we are all very much the same. And I am willing to bet most of those “popular” artists at the party were flying by the seat of their pants, too. Smiling through the fear. Faking it till they made it. Maybe even Sam Bush and Indigo Girls Emily Saliers felt that way. But I was too scared to talk to them, so I don’t know. I might be in the wrong business. No, that’s just crazy talk.

2. The second truth is no less important. I was never meant to fit in at all. I played a show with some lovely ladies in Atlanta this past week: Rebecca Loebe, Alexa Woodward, and Lauren Lapointe. We played in the round, so we were all on stage at once. Rebecca sat next to me, and at one point, I glanced down at her pedal tuner. (A little box on the floor that helps us tune our guitars.. we step on the tuner to make it work, thus it’s a pedal. Okay lesson over..) Rebecca had written on her tuner in Sharpie, and it said “RADIATE!” in a big fun font. So every time she looks down at her pedal to tune her guitar, she has this reminder to stand out, be different, shine. I am not sure what I found so appealing about the status quo, but the reality is I was meant to radiate, not imitate. I guess in some ways I’m afraid of myself. Afraid of all I’m meant to be. Thanks for the reminder, Rebecca. I needed that.

I am going to leave you with this quote, which I first heard in the movie Akeelah and the Bee. I am sucker for a good spelling bee flick.

it is our light not our darkness that most frightens us

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.

Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.

It is our light not our darkness that most frightens us.

We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous,
talented and fabulous?

Actually, who are you not to be?

You are a child of God.

Your playing small does not serve the world.

There’s nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other

people won’t feel insecure around you.

We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us.

It’s not just in some of us; it’s in everyone.

And as we let our own light shine,
we unconsciously give other people
permission to do the same.

As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.

-Marianne Williamson

Go on… shine your light bright. You know you want to.