Being Content with Discontent

So here's the real reason I picked up my blog again, besides wanting to forever capture the awkward middle school moments I encounter on a daily basis.  I felt compelled to write a reflection on a friend's blog post.  She recently wrote about feeling second rate, you know, that nagging feeling that you're always the next best thing, the runner-up, the supporting actor.  I don't know what provoked me to read her blog in the first place because quite frankly, I talk to her on a daily basis, and I thought that I knew what she was struggling with.  To hear her say that she felt "second-rate" was shocking.  You see, in my eyes, I see a confident, beautiful, independent, witty young woman.  She has this infectious inner-strength that makes reticent introverts, like myself, have the confidence to take on life's challenges.  Her empathy and wisdom allow me to openly voice my struggles without fear of judgement.  In my mind, she is not second-rate.  In fact, she's the one I've begun to measure myself against.  

So seeing her write that feeling second is common-place to her, well, I respect her even more.  But more importantly, her post made me realize that what's seemingly apparent on the surface is most likely a mask, a decoy to divert attention from what's really there.  It's the outer layer of the onion that so many people choose to accept as truth.

How often have I avoided a hard or uncomfortable conversation with humor and witty one-liners? More than I'd like to admit, unfortunately.  Instead of putting myself out there, I deflect "the awkward," as I call it, with a joke or a smile.  It's easy.  It's light.  It's risk-free. It's also incredibly fake.

I'm not saying that every time someone says something funny, we should be analyzing, Hmmm...he's obviously avoiding something hard in his life.  No, not at all.  Often times, funny things happen and should be laughed at.  But how often is the prom-queen, class clown, or football start overlooked because they seemingly have it all together?  Maybe, instead, they're content with being discontent.  Maybe they hide it better.  Maybe they're so worried of ruining an image that they don't admit their inadequacies.

So here's me, encouraged by my friend, admitting what I see as my own short-comings:

I hide behind humor.  I don't tell people how I feel because the thought of being vulnerable makes me nauseous.  I am scared of the future and have a hard time living in the present.  I am scared of failing, which translates to not taking risks or putting myself out there. Most of all, I too, feel second-rate.

Maybe if people spent a quarter of the time they spend telling jokes and funny anecdotes on talking about what's real, we'd all realize that there is no first place or leading role. There isn't someone who has it all figured out, who doesn't feel inadequate at times. We'd realize that through our interconnected lives, we can accept our imperfections and celebrate our strengths.

But...because I'm awkward and deflect vulnerability with corny humor, here's a joke a good friend recently shared with me.

Did you hear the joke about the circus?
It's intense.

Yeah...I know. I'm awkward.