Posted: 4/18/07

Peace in myself

Maggie Rowlands | contributing columnist
mrowlands@smcvt.edu

This is the best time of year. Best time of year bar none. There are four weeks left. Kids are skateboarding, long boarding, and biking. Smiles seem more apparent. Sallow faces seem to brighten when cabin fever from a long winter is finally treated. There are some things coming up that may be a little nerve-racking. Finals are coming up, I feel like my pants are tight, I have also acquired a new self consciousness about my hands; I think they are rather big. And I just found out that my wallet is back in Albany, where I just returned from. So it's raisin bran, take out, and weird snack machine treats for a few days. Oh well.

I seemed to bare all to you just then about what I am feeling like at this particular moment. It is good to bare all. It is good to let people know how you feel. It is important to feel awareness, but also a sense of self confidence. I suppose I will indulge you now in a very important form of peace to me, and this is making peace with myself.

As my mother grew older she told me of this tactic she used. This idea was comical. I am sure that she learned a lot in 55 years about herself. I am sure that she felt just as self conscious, out of place, and all the rest that is remnants of the typical teenage angst. She grew up the middle child, one of five. I am positive she did not receive the attention that I did and continue to being an only child. She worked her way through college, (she has an incredible work ethic, which she also expects of others.) Along the path of life, she, as well as every one in this world, suffered some mishaps. Some bumps. Some personal downfalls with her fellow man and woman. And yes, sometimes she feels like she is not fitting into her clothes the way she should, or whatever, I really don’t know what she worries about, but at times she used to tell me that at her age she is just going to put on the “who cares” t-shirt.

She is the funniest woman I have ever met. She is beautiful and kind. She cracks me up with her anecdotes, and her spontaneous reactions to life. She recognizes my self consciousness. I feel like someone is staring at me in a weird way, or that I look or act like a goof.

There was a while ago that one of the present members of the Peace and Justice Club said that I looked and act like an ostrich. At the time I was just getting to know him. He has got a little bit of a hot temper and a sharp tongue (I have learned.) At the time I though he was cooler than me, and that I had no right to question his critique of my physical appearance. Then I started thinking.

Do I really look like an ostrich? Am I tall and gawky and stupid? Do I run around, laying those huge eggs? Good God.

This whole year I have not been at peace with myself. It hurts to write this to you dear reader. It hurts to bare my pain and sorrow. Most people that know me, may not think of my as an ostrich, but some strong human being that is capable of overcoming social situations.

I cannot tell you the nights I have cried and cried and cried in my room. I cry because it seems that everyone is hooking up with everyone else, and I am just this ugly loser that goes to bed at ten and likes to read, and talk to my parents over the phone. I don’t funnel booze, and I certainly do not rip off my clothes for any man that may give me fleeting attention.

I have cried to my mom, over the phone. I can hear her years of wisdom ringing in my year, as I try to make sense of my life. Why is this person in the club so negative, why did I get this grade, why don’t boys like me, what the hell is wrong with me?

And I have given you all. I have let you know, a deep part of my life that has been plaguing the regions of my soul for some time. Some answers came to me over break. I feel at peace. I feel satisfied.

The answers to those questions consecutively are: The kid is negative because he is. He is probably not a happy dude. Do not respond negatively. He is sad. Poor him. Move on.

I got this grade because I didn’t listen to the professor correctly, didn’t study, or had a bad day. Move on.

This is a blanket statement. I do not spread myself out. I am shy. It is okay, I am being patient. Some boys have liked me, and it didn’t work. I will someday be with some dude over nine days. There are many out there, nothing serious, move on.

There is nothing wrong with me. My hands aren’t that big.

So what is the moral to the story? I am not going to change myself with the times. I am going to be continually looking to find peace with myself. Life is beautiful. There are peaks and valleys. It’s okay to be shy, and not know what is going on. It is okay to be funny. It is okay. I am okay, you are okay. Peace.