I’ve been navigating the parenting waters of weirdness this week. My oldest child is beginning to understand that his personal brand—which largely consists of drawing, describing, and role playing bloodthirsty, region-specific warriors from various points in ancient history—is not necessarily everyone’s cup of tea. And yes, a couple of kids have thrown out the weird word.
As all the best parenting will do, these conversations have required me to do a little unpacking of my own personal suitcase o’ crap. I always felt like a weird kid, and I continue to feel like a weird adult. Starting in elementary school, though, I made conscious choices to appear less weird so that other kids would like me. And generally, that’s a strategy that reaps us some societal rewards: job interviews, friends, not being burned at the stake.
However, I’m also VERY aware that I then had to spend tremendous time, energy, and therapy as an adult un-learning that need to be likeable at all costs. I’m still working on it. My internal controls got spun and twisted around by all that social accommodating, and I suspect it will be the work of my life to get them recalibrated.
And that’s fine! What else would I be doing if I didn’t have inner work to do? Outer work? Ascending to the astral plane and readying for my next earthly incarnation? Lame.
Still, I do not wish to pass on my legacy of public opinion worship. Nor do I want them to suppress their weirdness, which, quite frankly, we’re probably going to need to save the world at some point. However, I do want them to be leaders, and leadership requires an attentiveness to how people work and whether or not they like you.
After all, the street corner guy telling us aliens are coming may be correct, but he lacks the social capital to get something going.
So, in our house we’re just orchestrating a little socio-emotional circus. Walking a tightrope of self-esteem, riding the unicycle of authenticity, and juggling three hairless cats named Social Norms, Self-Awareness, and Empathy. You know. Just parenting children who aren’t even adolescents yet.
All this got me wondering, though, if perhaps I overestimate the singularity of my (and my children’s) weird experience. Were the normal kids I was pretending to be like also pretending?? Are you, dear reader, right now at this very moment, still pretending to be normal? Am I?? Who is this mythical standard of normativity we are all attempting to emulate? IS SHE EVEN REAL??
I don’t know. What I do know is that most of my favorite people now have been sprinkled by the weird fairy wand, whether I know them personally or just binge-listen to their podcasts, and I want to raise kids who can hang in there long enough to find their fellow weirdos, too.
Did you have the weird experience? Are you currently having the weird experience? Or did you parent kids through it? Tell me about it. WEIRD SOLIDARITY.
Love this, Lisa. Fellow weirdo raising weirdos here. 🙋♀️
SOLIDARITY.
I’ve been a dang weirdo for my entire life. I literally cried at the Pleasant View library when the librarian told me they didn’t have any books on cathedral architecture.
I’ve also felt the pressure to conform to social norms but found it frustrating, empty, and tiresome, for the most part. I sort of defaulted to a place where my small group of close friends were generally interested in my interest du jour was and came along for the ride.
Lately my interests, byzantine as they remain, have been more fruitful by being able to share them with others and connect via the internet.
I was also thinking about the role of the internet in growing up weird now, too. Social media isn’t great for kids, of course, but it does allow them to find people who have those weird niche interests. Podcasts alone have scratched my itch for having weird philosophical conversations that most people aren’t as into.