The Black Sheep
Growing up, my family always made it abundantly clear that I was the black sheep. It was always obvious to everyone, including me, that I wasn’t one of them. My brother told the lie that all big brothers tell, that I was adopted. Except my family decided to play along with it long enough for me to question whether or not I actually was.
I know we’re not supposed to compare ourselves to other people but growing up it was hard not to since my brother was the son that every parent always dreamed of having. Even in pre-school, Mrs. Simmons called attention to my mother that I wasn’t enough like my big brother who always did what he was told, always sat quietly and always played nice with the other kids. She said that I was more interested in playing with the art supplies while I was supposed to be singing, or dancing when I was supposed to be building blocks. And I yelled at the girl who took away my Snow White book, all things my beloved big brother would never even dream of doing according to our pre-school teacher.
In middle school and high school I was of course the troublemaker, the one with the chip on her shoulder since I was forced to attend a school that I didn’t want to go to. For college, I had always wanted to go to William and Mary but of course that’s where my brother went because I always played a little harder than I worked.
Even now, my brother is on the fast-track to investment banking. He knows exactly what he wants to do with his life and which steps need to be taken to get there. Even after being here for two years, I still don’t have a clear idea about what I want to do with my life. It’s not that I don’t have any ideas, it’s that I have too many and each idea is more radically different than the next. Plus I’m still trying to figure out how to make “world-traveler” into a profession. Most people in my family (except for my mother) still don’t understand exactly what I’m doing in Krygyzstan, why I would join Peace Corps in the first place and how I’ve managed to stay here this long after everything I’ve been through.
So far, I’m happy with what I’ve done with my life and who I’ve become even though I had a hell of a time getting here and still have a lot of work that needs to be done before I get to where I ultimately want to be. Everyday I pass sheep on my way to school and every time I see them, I smile to myself and feel smart to know that being a black sheep isn’t always a bad thing.
I know we’re not supposed to compare ourselves to other people but growing up it was hard not to since my brother was the son that every parent always dreamed of having. Even in pre-school, Mrs. Simmons called attention to my mother that I wasn’t enough like my big brother who always did what he was told, always sat quietly and always played nice with the other kids. She said that I was more interested in playing with the art supplies while I was supposed to be singing, or dancing when I was supposed to be building blocks. And I yelled at the girl who took away my Snow White book, all things my beloved big brother would never even dream of doing according to our pre-school teacher.
In middle school and high school I was of course the troublemaker, the one with the chip on her shoulder since I was forced to attend a school that I didn’t want to go to. For college, I had always wanted to go to William and Mary but of course that’s where my brother went because I always played a little harder than I worked.
Even now, my brother is on the fast-track to investment banking. He knows exactly what he wants to do with his life and which steps need to be taken to get there. Even after being here for two years, I still don’t have a clear idea about what I want to do with my life. It’s not that I don’t have any ideas, it’s that I have too many and each idea is more radically different than the next. Plus I’m still trying to figure out how to make “world-traveler” into a profession. Most people in my family (except for my mother) still don’t understand exactly what I’m doing in Krygyzstan, why I would join Peace Corps in the first place and how I’ve managed to stay here this long after everything I’ve been through.
So far, I’m happy with what I’ve done with my life and who I’ve become even though I had a hell of a time getting here and still have a lot of work that needs to be done before I get to where I ultimately want to be. Everyday I pass sheep on my way to school and every time I see them, I smile to myself and feel smart to know that being a black sheep isn’t always a bad thing.
posted by Katie P. at 12:50 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home