Out Of Place For A Lifetime

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I had to laugh when I read today’s prompt. Like the joke about traffic, when the truck driver on the radio shouts, “There is a car driving in the wrong direction,” and the other one answers, “What do you mean ONE, hundreds are driving in the wrong direction.”

That would be me. I have felt out of place all my life.

As a little girl, I felt abandoned and alone. I didn’t talk to anybody about what was going on at home. I was too little, perhaps every child’s life was exactly like mine?

At the age of 7, I was the girl who didn’t have parents, even though they were still alive, they were no longer in my life. I was the girl who lived with her grandma. Did neighbors, teachers, and the children I knew pity me? Perhaps they did. I just knew my life was different from theirs. Was I different too?

I was sent to an elite boarding school. The farm girl, the ‘poor kid’ sat at the table with other girls from wealthy families, with children who had a title to their name. I traded my homemade jams and pickles for their exquisite lunchmeat. I gave them loans from my allowance and charged interest. I stood out! I was different, yet they accepted me. Truth be told, there were five poor girls in the school. Mercy scholarships? Or perhaps my grandma had been friends with the right nun? Or maybe I belonged there?

After I graduated I became an orphan child. The young adult who had no one (even though my parents were still alive -somewhere). My grandma had passed away and I had moved to Vienna, the capital of Austria. I didn’t feel alone. Some students envied me. Nobody told me what to do or how to act. What they wished for I had. What they had, I now missed.

My childhood was wonderful. I have the greatest memories. I was loved and spoiled by my grandmother. Perhaps not with material things, but in so many other ways that were much more meaningful. Some things can’t be bought. That’s what I learned early on. In school, the rich girls treated me like one of them. The teachers challenged me because they saw so much potential, the nuns mothered me because they just couldn’t help themselves. I was a privileged child in so many ways.

Then I became a young student who didn’t have a family. Yes, I stood out, not just because of my history but also because I was tall. Much taller than the average female, I held my head up high most of the time, but sometimes I tried to be smaller. It didn’t work. I loved the high-heeled shoes as much as everyone else.

As a young adult, the seeds of laughter they had planted in me, blossomed. I was joyful, adventurous, and fearless and there was no doubt in my mind -my life would be one worth living. I would see the world and marry an amazing man. We would have a house full of children, ten goats, and fifteen dogs and cats. The white-picket-fence dream so many girls have was vivid in my mind.

I fell in love and moved with my new husband 5000 miles away. I left Austria behind, packed a few suitcases and my memories, and landed in California.

And there I stood out like a sore thumb.

The Austrian girl who didn’t speak much English. The foreigner, the migrant. Yes, I felt out of place and out of time.

Had I gone backward or forward? So much was different in the US. The minds of the people, the laws, and some beliefs seemed very old -and odd- while other things like fast food restaurants were very modern. So many things I had never seen, so much I had to explain.

People were nice(er) back then. I was welcomed. I was wanted, and wherever I went I felt out of place at first, but the American people, all migrants and immigrants either first generations or second and third, were on my side. Perhaps I had the right color of skin? Maybe part of it was my attitude toward them?

Then I became a childless woman. Pitied by many at first, envied later by some.

I traveled alone, all for business with lots of work, but somehow the travels were paid vacations as well. I was the young woman who ate alone in a restaurant in the 80s when this was still uncalled for. I was the young woman who was promoted to a manager position. Was it a pity promotion, or was I a quota-woman, who was only appointed in this position because they had to give it to a certain percentage of women? Or did I earn it?

I knew I earned it and that was enough!

I felt out of place all my life, but somehow that exactly was my place. The role of the adventurer, the loner who never felt lonely. The one who spoke up, when nobody else would. The fish who swims against the stream, first not by choice, but later on willingly.

Do I still feel out of place?

Yes and I enjoy the feeling. There is nothing wrong with me or my life but there is lot of things wrong with our society that makes people feel out of place.

Out of place! I assume if you look up the word in the dictionary there is a pretty good chance you will find my picture right beside it. 🙂

Was I out of place? Am I still out of place?

The truth?

We all have a place and we earned it. We might not fit in at first glance, but then somehow we fit into the bigger picture.

Without all the ones who are different, this world would be colorless and quite boring!

Daily writing prompt

Tell us about a time when you felt out of place.

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