I have been thinking on the paths my life has taken. And the struggle to get to where I am today. And how it just continues to be a struggle. Always on the struggle bus. I am aware that it is mostly up to me to change this. I also know there are some deeper social dynamics at work beneath the surface. Sometimes I wonder how I ever became so impassioned about poverty for one and racism for two. I mean, I'm white. I came from a home where my family lived the American dream. My Dad was the primary bread winner. We owned our home. We generally had money for extras. Except for the one year that we didn't. Have money. For extras or basics. That was a tough year. But my Dad had a good reputation as a hard worker and he could almost always secure a loan, draw money from his business, or find some way to generate cash flow so we could live the life, the American Dream.
So seriously....
I believe that one reason is that I'm an Empath. And I use that term loosely because I am not exactly sure what that means. But I am a person who feels things very deeply. Everything is personal. Things that many, that elusive group of folks I call "normal people (or Normies)," do not take personal. And I ache deep in my soul for people that society casts a less than favorable light on. I walk their path. It feels like their pain happened to me. Which is overwhelming. To me. To others. It makes me odd. (And I'm okay and secure today with my Odd-ness). It makes me it hard to develop and maintain friendships. Because I might be smothering while I'm living and feeling and experiencing your life with/for you. Your pain is my pain, your loss is my loss, and I feel it to my core, in my bones. But your success is always (cautiously) my success. An added bonus is that you now have a cheerleader for life. And there's pretty much nothing you can do to stop me from caring about you, cheering for you, praying for you. forever. Good or bad. Normal or creepy. And it is a bit on the creepy side of things. I'm kinda like your shadow now.
Okay. I wrote so poignantly above about how we were basically living the American Dream when I was a kid. But we were also people on the fringe. We lived in a small town and you can never really outrun your past in a small town. Not only that, but your family's past. You may be on the up and up, but if your father's father's great-grandfather did something to upset the members of your church (affiliating with a church was not a bonus when I was growing up.... you could belong to a church as a member, by past affiliation, or you could be viewed as heathens/evil/lost souls); it was part of your identity. So if you were, perhaps, one of those damn Sudermans, you were locked in to that. Yes, my last name was once Suderman, like Superman, only not as super. So you can accept this, or fight it. I was a fighter. I still am. And the truth is, not everything in life is meant to be a fight. But it has also served me well.
I didn't know I was one of "those" Sudermans as a young kid. But I did as I got older. My 7th grade math teacher would tell tales about my dad in class, as did my Algebra teacher, and my shop teacher. With the shop teacher being the biggest one. He let me know that he had his eye on me because he had been my dad's teacher and he had experienced my dad's ornery side, the adventuresome side. And my Dad may or may not have caused a welding table (which was made of steel pipe and very heavy) to jump and flip upside down. I happen to think it's a funny story now. Okay, I have always thought it was funny. I identified with my Dad's orneriness. Still do. But there was also an air of judgment to the story that I would never have the ability to overcome.
I was supposedly accepted by the "good kids;" the church kids, the members of the same church that I grew up in. But I and my bestie, we connected at a young age, we were the entertainment of the group. And I remember how they would laugh at us. I remember being singled out and asked to participate, just so they would have someone to scapegoat, blame, laugh at. Yeah, I was one of those damn Sudermans. It hurt my heart. It still does. When I think of how we were treated as kids, I just want to burn down the whole damn town. And there's a whole lot of "Fuck 'em" in my life today. I find it sad and oddly satisfying that I spend a vast about of time giving the finger to my hometown. Haha, I succeeded. Haha, I have obtained a fucking Masters degree. Haha.... and so it goes. A lot of my accomplishments are done one handed so my other hand can fly the bird.
I have rambled on long enough for this day. But there is more. SO much more. This conversation/monologue is not over. I have scratched the surface of who I am today. A flag flyer. A rebel. An F-you'er. An empath. A feeler. Everything I do is controlled by how it feels. So I will dive in more. However, my soul can only dive so deep and I cannot stay submerged for too long. I will die down there.
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