Smarty Pants

 I was a bright kid with parents who valued education above most things, so I did well in school. I also talk too much, so other kids knew I knew the answers. This wasn't as much an issue in elementary school (though I did generally have more interactions with teachers and other adults than with peers) as in high school. Even in junior high, I was mostly grouped with the other nerdy kids, so I felt like I was part of that group. But moving between 9th and 10th grade meant that I joined a new high school already in progress.

Starting at that new high school was tough. Academic standards were significantly higher than my old school. But within a semester, I was back in the top 5 of my class. There were several comments from kids in my AP and Honors classes that it wasn't fair that I hadn't been there for all of high school, so my prior grades shouldn't have counted in my ranking. I was shunned for coming in and "stealing" a spot. Competitive much? I continued to work hard, befriended other students who moved in after me, and managed to graduate second in the class. I figure I earned it, but being told I hadn't proceeded to solidify my place outside.

Pastor's Kid

My dad was a pastor. I don't know how much other parents' jobs affect their kids, but being the pastor's kid meant people didn't want to be friends with me. Maybe it was because they thought I would tattle if they did something wrong, or maybe they thought I would be judgy as a result. Or maybe it had nothing to do with my dad, but there were definitely first dates in high school where faces visibly changed upon finding out and there were no second dates. Never invited to parties. I drew conclusions, but I still think they were accurate. It took going off to college to get out from under the thumb of my dad's role in the community.

Always the New Kid

 We moved a lot. Like A LOT. I was in two different kindergartens, five different second grades, moved during fifth grade, and between ninth and tenth. Between the moves and the different school districts breaking up elementary, middle, and high school differently, I was perpetually the new kid. 

Small towns don't do a very good job of embracing a new kid. So, I didn't make a lot of friends, and tended to be with the other kids that no one liked. This led to situations like the Halloween party that I got invited to as a joke in 4th grade, and the rumors my one friend (also new to school that year) and I were lesbians in 5th grade. And getting called an N-word lover for sitting on the bus with the one kid that no one would interact with in 7th grade. And creating The I'm Normal Other People Are Weird Society with my one friend in 8th grade.

I think it made me more aware of left out kids, and made me a champion of the underdog. But it has helped solidify me as kind of an outcast with difficulty finding my place in groups.

Living in the Philippines

 We moved to the Philippines when I was 5, and come back when I was 7-and-a-half. During the first 6-8 months, we were living in Quezon City, so we saw other Americans most of the time. We lived in an ex-pat area and I was young, so I didn't really understand that we were viewed as invaders and colonizers.

Then we moved out into the barrio, and lived there for two years. There, we were the only white people at all. Everyone else spoke Ilocano or Tagalog, had brown skin, and were Catholic. That last part was important, since my dad was a Lutheran missionary. So, while we learned Ilocano, we didn't speak it fluently, were white, and were protestant. "Other" in very obvious ways. I remember comments about how funny it was that we got sunburns. Or that they didn't realize American men could get pregnant.

I became acutely aware of my other-ness here. We didn't go to school with the kids in the barrio -- mom homeschooled us. We had two live-in helpers, a full-time gardener, a house with a foundation and a window AC unit in one room. I was aware, even at that young age, of our privilege, though I didn't understand that Americans were hated. I knew we left quickly. Decades later I understood that was due to death threats received by our family in the aftermath of political unrest that ousted most US presence from the country.

Six Eyes

 When I was three, it was determined that I could see almost nothing with my left eye. I was subsequently diagnosed with a birth defect in the lens that led to surgery at age 5 to remove it and start down a path of patching, contact lenses, and bifocals to try to get any functioning vision in that 20/2000 uncorrected eye. In the 80s, there was no concept of progressives, so the bifocal line and the patch I had to wear to force usage were very visible to other kids in my elementary years. 

Especially in 3rd and 4th grade, I remember a ton of playground teasing. "Arrrrrrrrr! Heather's a pirate!" was annoying, but "four eyes" was definitely the most frequent. Not willing to just accept criticism for something I had no control over needing, I trained myself to retort "No, I have six eyes -- two eyes, one contact lens, one regular glasses lens, and two halves of bifocal lenses." It seemed to work in that people teasing me. I assume they mostly rolled their eyes at so much explanation, but I felt like I was taking control of that situation.

Having glasses (or being a smarty-pants know-it-all) meant I didn't have many friends. Most people just ignored me when it came to kickball games or group projects or parties. I knew I was different, but I didn't know how to keep those differences from ostracizing me.

Being an Outsider

 In my last therapy session, she made a good point that I identify very hard with being an outsider. There is definitely some truth to this, and I do know that I really hate feeling like an outsider. Things like moving away and suddenly hearing nothing about what's going on with my friends. Or finding out about a block party where our invitation was lost and feeling left out. Working for a company where I have an influential role, but I don't live in the headquarters city. I hate inside jokes, etc. etc. etc.

So, I'm going to try to spend some time thinking about old stories from my past where I have been the outsider. There have been a lot of them, so I figured I'd just use this old space to hold these old stories as I pull them together. It will be a little chaotic and timeline jumpy, but I agree that this is an important exercise for me to do to figure out where the root of this comes from, so I can figure out how not to be quite so butt-hurt when these kinds of things inevitably happen.