Comic Stripped: The Road to My Happy Place
I started this blog to help people (and myself) feel less alone and more hopeful. We feel isolated and self-conscious in part because we underestimate how many others can relate to uncomfortable feelings like social anxiety, depression, and, my personal favorite, impostor syndrome. At the same time, we tend to minimize the importance of embracing our differences, flaws and all, as we try to fit-in at the expense of our individuality. We spend so much time trying to find our community or mesh with whoever’s around us, that we forget about the power to create a new space. For me, the intersection of creativity and empathy is where the good stuff happens. I always recognize the path when I’m on it, but it’s easy to take a wrong turn when I’m analyzing the journey instead of living it. My brother unintentionally sent me the coordinates to my happy place, so this post is dedicated to him.
Lately my writing has been stunted by the need to find the perfect balance (spoiler alert: there’s no such thing) between she keeps it real and she’s kind of a mess Perhaps I’m a real mess? I’m not sure, but the process feels a lot like those moving walkways in the airport; I know I’m going somewhere, but I feel like I’m standing in place. Obviously no one wants to read a boring blog, but there are rules associated with sharing personal insights because part of the package, my least favorite part, is image control. After about four half-written posts, stuck halfway between too raw and too shallow, I stepped off the walkway. No flight of ideas for me. I stood still as the carousel full of my unclaimed baggage spun around and around in my mind.
Luckily, my extended layover was interrupted by good news. My brother announced that he and his partner launched their comic strip and he sent me the link to the first chapter. I didn't know much about the content, but his excitement was contagious. (unabashed proud sis plug: check out the link at the bottom! #seedscomic) It didn’t take much effort to relate to Suu Yin Sui, the anxiety ridden girl with unidentified superpowers, who seemed to be more caught up in blending in than saving the world. Overwhelmed and out of place, she wanted nothing more than to bolt. Then unexpectedly, which makes sense because expectation is like kryptonite for insight, something clicked. I felt the words meant for Suu jump off the page and speak to me, “You’ll fit in fine. We’re all pretty weird here!“ The words weren't revolutionary, just well timed. Two things stood out that somehow didn’t occur to me before. 1.) It’s possible that my fear of breaking the rules and what I’ve always perceived as my brother’s disregard for...rules? What rules? might just come from the same place: A hyper-awareness that we don’t naturally fit-in. 2.) Maybe we're not supposed to fit into this world so we stay motivated to create something new.
And it’s not just us. The biggest perk of my career is getting to know people behind the masks they present to the world. I’m reminded everyday that no one has it all figured out. On the days that we feel out of place, we’re actually in good company. People who were raised in different environments, look nothing like me, and have different religious and political values share experiences so familiar that, at times, I could finish their sentences (though I try not to).
Too often we view fitting-in and belonging as synonymous, but they’re not. There’s this idea that the number of spots in the pack are limited, so people tend to either avoid confrontation at all cost or become fiercely (often unnecessarily) competitive to avoid being odd man out. I don’t think that feeling of being a real mess (hot-mess, train-wreck take your pick) is about flaws at all; it’s our judgment of our traits and experiences that causes the biggest issue. Standing apart from the crowd isn’t hurtful when we accept that each individual brand of weird is more than just some character flaw, diagnosis, or disability. Our weird is part of our contribution to the world and suppressing it is actually an obstacle to belonging. Vulnerability and reciprocity are the food that nourish relationships. Most of us have characteristics that we have to work really hard to channel or manage in a healthy way, but the acceptance of that imperfect process is my definition of balance. Our worth shouldn’t be determined by our ability to assimilate or compete. We’re here for a reason and no one gets to rank us or determine our seed in this round. On days like this, the directions to my happy place read more like instructions: If the rules are unfit, change the game.
Days like this…