dont we all feel it from time to time. i feel more like i live it all the time.
being a social miss fit was how my mother described the realization that her handicaped body would leave her for the rest of life, yet her resolve left her a wake of many friendships. she reached for the solid relation ships with depth in her life. however there was always a depth of despair that lent itself to living outside the polished resolve of living in side the lines, at times.
i am a only child who was alone allot. i never heard a lot of conversations. i grew up not gaining Friends easily. even now i would consider my self a social misfit in some ways. im not handicaped. but i can’t speak the latest sports isms or trivial stuff most men are supposed to know and be passionate about. i wear my moods and my heart on my sleeve.
we all have thresholds of social awkwardness. and we have our defense plans built into our responses to not being included in a conversation or not being noticed. i make it a conscience decision to introduce people who walk up to me in my conversation with someone. i make it a point to notice the ones not involved in the main stream in a crowd. I’m quite thank full for a phone which can lend an escape!
growing up with a handicaped person sensitizes ones observational skill in what others are saying by their body language. my mom always pushed me to be the first to talk to some one. i was always brought along to nursing homes to sing or talk with or read to aunts and strangers.
mom always was outside most peoples box. even in the assisted care she had few she could talk to most the other table mates didn’t have cognitive skill. she did however develop friend ships with nurses and staff.
so really there is always some one who needs you to talk to them and some one who needs you to listen too. they just have to be looked for.