I was a tree-climbing, doll hating, woods walking, fort building, kind of girl
When I went to school my weirdness kicked in about 2nd grade- The nun asked me to spell RED— and I did… Red, read, wread, wred, wreade.
Imagine that she said, she can't even spell "red." Shortly after that incident, I hid in the locker room during recess instead of going out to play. I was a skinny thing, and the bigger girls would taunt and tease me so I’d duck into a cubicle until recess was over and pretend to be the first one in the door.
At 12, I remember standing on the yellow step of St Christopher's church when, my mother while talking to a priest said "Yes, we think she ought to go camp, it would be good for her, Camp Bernadette. Yes, she seems to be a little bit retarded.
At 16, my parents who owned a hairdressing shop gave my school-age friend Janet and I, the same job: to sweep up the hair and wash brushes for our 30 operators. It was a simple job, and there was plenty to do.
The first day on the job we were standing by the double sink in the back and, I asked Janet what they were paying her. She said “1.88 an hour. “ That was decent money back then. However, my parents told me they would pay me $0.88 an hour. That meant I was worth less than half of what Janet she was worth. Something inside me snapped. I left the sink went into the back lounge, picked up a magazine, and read for the rest of the afternoon. I couldn't explain what was wrong.
My parents told me that night. Well, we thought because you are our daughter, and we own the business, you get everything anyway. It just keeps the money in the family. Janet’s family needs the money, but you don’t. We pay for everything for you anyway. But It told me… I wasn’t worth it. You said you are “less than.” In fact, you are less than half of what someone your own age is worth.
Fast forward to college where the professor gave me an A on an exam scolded me for not trying hard during his class but said my review was one of the most insightful he had read for literary conventions and had few misspellings.
Now there is a difference between someone who makes a mistake and someone who IS a mistake. People who are flawed are like broken toys, they will never be OK, and they can’t be fixed.
Weird people actually have a different brain Style. They are wired differently If you take all the varieties of different kinds of brain wiring, it's about 20 percent of the population I have been on the perimeter of every group, business, or association for as long as I can remember. I have been pushed out of every job I ever had. During a mediation that I asked for, I was told that nobody wanted to work with me. When I asked why and the facilitator said “because you’re weird”
I hate to compete with people because I figured I’ll just lose. I have NOT so far forgotten or forgiven all those incredibly painful moments where there doesn’t appear to be a way to “Fit” in. For this long life, very few people know what I am thinking.