I was pretty young when I realized that my way of relating to the world was a little different. I stood out, and not in a good way. Let me assure you; despite what everyone says, very few people are truly tolerant of difference. I simply didn’t understand why no one could relate to me. EVER. So, I retreated into books. Long story short, it was a librarian that gave me the epiphany I needed. Eight-year-old me handed her a note from my mom giving me permission to check out anything I wanted, not just kiddie stuff. When she asked me what I planned on looking for, I shrugged and said, “I don’t know, something to help wake up my magic, or maybe a romance?” She laughed (like I was joking) and said that she liked my world lens.
Over time, I realized that the metaphorical lenses I wear vary in color, flip the world sideways, and are tinted with a salty sense of humor. It took me forever to learn that I had to make an attempt to view things with perspective. That took some trial and error. I had the neighborhood kids convinced I had a twin. When I would gaff, I would run inside and change clothes. I threatened my brother with his life to go along with the ruse. Granted, it didn’t last long. It was hard to maintain, and I couldn’t pull it off with an older crowd. It took work to develop empathy or to read a room. Don’t get me wrong. I never abandoned myself. I just attempted to expand my frame of reference by viewing things through the eyes of others.
I realized that telling another kid he smells like pancakes wasn’t the best way to make a friend. (even though I like pancakes) I fought really hard not to share my “only funny to me” stories during class. Even if history class made me think of flags; which made me think of a story. So, I probably shouldn’t have raised my hand to tell the class about, “this one time, my brother kept raising the flag at Panchos (a restaurant), and he ate so much that he threw-up red punch all over the parking lot, and when we were driving home my dad lost it and started swerving and screaming because he realized that my brother had pulled sopapillas out of his pocket and started eating again.” At the time, I didn’t understand why everyone just stared at me. I do now.
It wasn’t easy. To be honest, I still struggle with the “only funny to me” aspect of it all. I am definitely accustomed to standing on the receiving end of blank stares and awkward silences. Just a couple days ago, I heard a man in line behind me say, “I always get checked out when I dress like this.” I could not resist. I turned around. I’m sincerely sorry he didn’t find my, “I wanted to see if you were dressed like a panda” comment amusing. I’m also sincerely sorry he wasn’t dressed like a panda. It would have made my day.
My point? I have been forced to acknowledge that I wear a pair of glasses that tint my interactions with the world. So many people go through life without realizing that they too own their own unique pair of glasses. These metaphorical lenses tint everything we do and say. The inability to acknowledge them is, in my opinion, what is wrong with the world.
Know what tints your lenses. Is it judgment, anger, selfishness, bias, or the desire to control others? If someone upsets you, try to see things through his or her lenses. Expand your vision. Understanding what shades your perspective, and the ability to acknowledge its uniqueness to you, will help you develop a better relationship with the world. Empathy. I believe the world needs a giant dose of it.
General Musings of a Gen Xer 