Thank You for Laughing at Me.

“If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer. Let him step to the music which he hears, however measured or far away.”

– Henry David Thoreau

Nomad

I’ve been an outsider for as long as I can remember. Growing up, we were the poor relatives in a large extended family. We were also weird, as we belonged to a minority religion and didn’t drink. That made us the butt of some fairly predictable scoffs and sneers at family gatherings and generally made us feel unwelcome. Sometimes my sister and I would snap back in response, but all that did was reward the perpetrators’ small-mindedness in a perverse way.

I also learned fairly early on that I was quite different to the other kids at school, church and in the neighbourhood. I developed a nomadic tendency of moving between different groups. I had friends in all sorts of disparate groups. But I didn’t find a home in any one of them. Not by a long way. And if I showed too much of myself then I was bound to be laughed at, which infuriated me.

I hated being an outsider. I hated feeling like I didn’t belong. But as much as being laughed at angered me, it also hurt me. I remember breaking down after school one day due to the pain I felt of not belonging and the increasing obviousness of my isolation.

Notwithstanding my uncomfortable predicament, however, I decided that I wouldn’t compromise who I was just to fit in. I’d decided to live a life that was true to my conscience and values, and, although not perfect, I wasn’t going to throw those things away when they became inconvenient or unpopular. It always seemed like a natural point would arise at which I’d either choose to step away from a group or simply be left behind.

“Well, I try my best to be just like I am

But everybody wants you to be just like them.”

– Bob Dylan

Breakthrough

This isn’t a sob-story, thankfully. Action, experience and reflection helped me to learn the necessary lessons in valuing myself as a unique individual, without constantly feeling the need to fit neatly into one particular group or tribe.

These lessons in self-worth didn’t come through self-obsession or self-aggrandisement, however. They came through serving others. It was only when I stopped obsessing so much about my place in the world and instead paid more attention to how I could help and serve others that I got my answers.

I learned that my uniqueness, weirdness and all, equipped me to serve others in ways that no one else could. It enabled me to both see and create in ways that others couldn’t, so I could add value in ways that others couldn't. This lesson transcended belonging and taught me about the importance of becoming. It was only through becoming a better version of myself that I could have a meaningful impact in life.

I believe that this is true for all of us. Each of us is divinely unique. Our uniqueness gives us the ability and sacred responsibility to serve others and, in so doing, make significant contributions to the greater good. When we lose ourselves in serving others, we find ourselves. Some of life’s greatest and most lasting blessings and successes are found in that paradox.

“As we lose ourselves in the service of others, we discover our own lives and our own happiness.”

― Dieter F. Uchtdorf

Thanks for the Laughs

Overcoming the fear of mockery is a threshold that each of us must cross if we’re to discover, appreciate and use our unique voices. But it would be facile to say that being laughed at early on in life simply gave me thicker skin. It did something much more valuable than that; it put my weirdness, which was my uniqueness, right in front of me. It made it imperative for me to answer big conscience-based questions about my values and identity.

Without developing a strong sense of self, we can easily be swayed by pressure from others or by the latest fads and trends. Being laughed at was an important stimulus in building the foundations of my character. I’m sincerely grateful for that.

I still get laughed at sometimes. I'm still unique. No problem. Not a problem for me, anyway. I know who I am and I know why. The laughter reminds me of that. To those who have laughed, thank you!

Ultimately, the laughter has taught me to forget myself and go to work ( as Gordon B. Hinckley’s dad put it). I now know that wandering between different groups to contribute and serve is much more fulfilling than wandering between different groups simply to belong.