All my life people told me I was the smart one or I was going somewhere or the sky’s the limit. But where am I now? A stay-at-home mom, homeschooling my son. I am not extraordinary; I am ordinary.
My parents and teachers instilled in me the desire to be extraordinary and for 36 years pretending to be extraordinary has guided me from one project to the next. Have I found what makes me unique? No, in every corner I search, I end up holding in my hand nothing that makes me stand out, nothing that makes me memorable.
But a question keeps recurring in my brain, do I need to be extraordinary? And why can’t I be happy with ordinary?
Part of me feels I can’t be ordinary because I will let people down if their hopes and dreams for me are ripped away and thrown in the trash. All their efforts wasted. That thought brings guilt, guilt from letting someone down, something I don’t enjoy. But is it really a big deal if my teacher wanted me to become an English Professor and I ended up never completing college? Is my teacher going to be mad or disappointed in me? And, more importantly, does it matter? If I make them happy will I be happy? No. For 36 years I have been trying to make them happy resulting in my unhappiness.
What I figured out.
Ordinary is acceptable. Ordinary is normal. Ordinary is living. Living a life that is not horrible or poverty-stricken or malnourished or life threatening. Ordinary is peaceful.
I choose to be ordinary and it’s freeing, allowing me to be whatever I want without the need to make tons of money or be recognized for something. I can do whatever makes ME happy.
What are you pretending to be?