Last week I listened to an episode of Radiolab, a podcast that discusses interesting scientific concepts and stories at a universally accessible level. On the episode a woman told the story of one day during her childhood when she was at a party and she suddenly became disoriented. In fact, she became so confused that she ran into her own back yard and failed to recognize it as her own. The part of her brain that recognizes spatial relationships had had a sort of “short-circuit” and the world rotated ninety degrees. The details of this are unimportant but what followed made me ponder. When she told her mother about it she was more than a bit unhelpful and so for the next twenty years this woman carried around the belief that her brain was somehow “screwed up” in a way that was unique to her. She couldn’t fathom the possibility that anyone else had this problem… until she met someone who did, decades later.
I’ve often noted in humanity the tendency to think that we’re each wonderfully unique individuals. “There’s nobody like you,” sang Barney the Dinosaur, “you’re special!” For most of us childhood is filled with trite phrases and affirmations like that one. Society works so hard at lifting us up and making us feel good about ourselves that it forgets the simple truth that in the grand scheme of things, we’re each ultimately replaceable. Sure, in our own local circles we matter greatly because our families would notice if we were suddenly replaced with the next best version of ourselves, but looking at it globally, we’re all really just different copies of the same model number. If the internet can teach us nothing else it’s that no matter what you might happen to be into, there’s somebody else out there who’s into the exact same thing. There are one-legged crocheting cat-fanciers in the hundreds just waiting for your annual membership dues.
And while it may be depressing to think of the world that way, remember the woman from our opening. Her brain was suffering with a serious problem. She thought she was uniquely damaged in a way that nobody else could ever begin to share or relate to. Yet the show goes on to describe her amazing relief when she realized that she was NOT the only one. While it may deflate one’s ego to think that you’re not the unique and wonderful person you think you are, the flip side is that no matter what your problem, no matter how down you may get, perhaps it’s some comfort to know that there are hundreds, maybe thousands of people who have the exact same problem. There are people out there who feel your pain and know your sorrow. Sometimes being special feels like the most magical feeling in the world. Sometimes being special makes you feel like the loneliest and most isolated person in the universe. Take comfort in the simple fact that you are not special.
3 comments:
We've had an ongoing conversation at work about this, at least part of it. The youngest generation in the working world grew up surrounded by people who went out of their way to praise them, to tell them how great they are, to acknowledge every little thing they did. Now, as adults in the working world, these same people are bewildered by the fact that they're not constantly being told they're doing a good job. They complain that they're not getting enough positive feedback, that no one notices the work they're doing. My generation, however, has the attitude "if you're screwing up, you'll know it because I'll tell you. If you don't hear much from me that means you're doing fine." Those generational differences set up some unique problems in the work world. How do we, the older generation, manage a group that needs so much praise? How do we help the younger generation workers understand that they're not going to get high fives, awards,and praise every day they're at work? How do we help them understand that not getting daily accolades doesn't mean they suck? It's draining to work with people who want constant positive reinforcement for DOING THEIR JOB.
Yeah, there is a fine line between simply needing positive feedback and being positively needy. Problem is that we've grown accustomed to immediate gratification in so many ways. I can see, in more or less real time, how many people have read my crap. That's gratification in a way. We play video games that give us instant feedback on our performance. So of course we want the same thing in our work life. Not really all that unreasonable in general but we need to adjust things a bit to make it happen. If we can make it happen then we'll have much more productive workers, I suspect. :)
Your post certainly rings true, based on my experience. I grew up in a small town, with a schizophrenic mother, at a time when mental illness wasn't discussed as openly as it is today, and it still had a certain stigma attached to it. As a kid, I felt all alone in the world, unique, and unhappy in my situation, feeling like nobody understood just how strange it was to live with the ugly little "secret". Of course, as I've grown older, I've come to realize that families that DON'T have to deal with some form of mental illness are probably more unusual than mine! I only wish that I had understood back then, just how ordinary I was.
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