Born Never To Blend

As we leave childhood, we never tend to realize that growing up is a social shock all its own. Becoming an adult is quite different for everyone. Physically, we have to deal with the changes of hitting puberty, and those can happen either early or later. We feel out of place when our bodies start shifting and seeming to betray us, but that’s almost nothing compared to dealing with new emotions and responsibilities. We go from a magical world of playground breaks, naps, and music during school lunches to being thrown into the adolescent fray that we call high school. A new world of fake, egotistical, and hormonal “teen-adults”, all attempting to become what others expect to see from us.

Not everyone can fit into that world so easily. People like me, for example.

What happens when, in a sea of red fish, you’re blue? What happens when the blue fish refuses to change the color of their scales to be viewed as “normal”? Well, as every outcast can attest to, even in hindsight, it’s more satisfying to push back and not just blend in.

Most of us remember what it was like for us as kids. In kindergarten and elementary school, we were all so naïve. Happy-go-lucky, without a care in the world, the opinions of others never occurred to us. In my case, growing up with older brothers, my days had a regular routine. Waking up at 5am, no matter the day, with short-cut hair and hand-me-down clothes for boys, everything was normal.

One might think that, overall, that’s not so bad. And, sure, it might not have been. As a child, you didn’t know that you might suddenly have new expectations as you grew older. When, later in life, you had to become something you didn’t want to be just so the kids at school would stop making fun of you. And then, when you tried to calm that storm, going home no longer became an escape from the torment. Being “girly” became obligatory, as the opinions of others came into play, and that still wasn’t enough for everyone.

I come from a long line of military lineage. Everyone in my family, by the age of eighteen, shipped off to basic training, and has served or are still serving. Mother, father, step-mother, brothers, aunt, uncle, cousins, grandparents… everyone around me. And then there’s me. As the only female in a family of males, and the youngest, I suppose I was born with the intent to not fit in. I found myself in constant competition, fighting for my place. It wasn’t easy.

When you’re raised in a military family, they expect you to also put on a uniform and a blank façade. Never stray; never have an opinion; never be creative. It was all about productivity - get straight A’s in school, turn 16 and take the ASVAB. Don’t you dare say no, because serving for your country is what you’re supposed to do. All the medals and folded flags decorating the house told you that you’re not supposed to stray from the path that your family has laid out.

As someone who regularly didn’t fit in, I clearly didn’t join the military or follow in the family footsteps. I crawled out of the ocean and sprouted legs. The minute I turned 18, I left home. My family disowned me, even my own dad, and in the blink of an eye I was completely alone. I had been preparing for what I thought was the worst when I told them I wanted to leave and not serve. I only imagined they would be mad and eventually get over it to help me transition out of my childhood home. I never thought the worst was being disowned and immediately on my own.

I wasn’t prepared to be thrown out into a shark tank of a world and figure everything out at the drop of a hat. You don’t think about the non-existent credit score you have to start building to even qualify for an apartment to live in (it’s not like schools actually teach life skills anymore). You don’t think about car insurance or registration or roadside assistance as a kid in high school. You don’t think about the lemon of a car that you bought out of necessity, or the fact that when it breaks down you don’t have your dad to call.

Having never fit in with the crowd in school, I didn’t have true friends willing to help out either. But, as someone who was always taught to be prepared, I was… even if it was very minimal preparation in light of the overall situation.

I had been working full time as a waitress and going to school full time. I had money saved, and a car to drive. All I needed was a place to lay my head. Getting a second and even third job was easy. Hotels and restaurants all wanted the sprightly educated young woman to serve guests, and being half-decent looking gave me an advantage. I worked as much as I could, living for about a year in my car, in the hotel I worked at, or in school. I would throw on my chef’s coat in the morning, attend class, then change into a long sleeve button-down and black slacks in the car going to the restaurant. Then to the hotel, throwing on a skirt and some heels. I would change in the car at least 4 times every day. Sleep was never really a thing - I was young and growing up the way I did gave me that advantage, at least.

As difficult as it was, I was happier than being stuck at home, or shipped off to some base in the middle of the desert in Texas to attend hell camp for ten weeks. I was cooking what I wanted, being creative at school and drawing whenever I could sit down for a second. I let my passion to find another way of life drive me. I was happier being the blue fish out of water than I ever would have been if I had painted on my scales and ignored who I really was.

It’s one thing to be thrown into a socially shocking situation, but it’s a whole other ball game when the shocking situation is realizing you have to completely learn to be an adult on your own with no support simply because you wanted to be yourself.