From 3rd grade on, I never felt like I really fit in. My parents had divorced. We left the hometown where I grew up and we moved to Pittsburgh. Other than my mother’s best friend and her kids, I didn’t know anyone in Pittsburgh. And I never really fit in with this woman nor her kids.
I met kids in my neighborhood right away and made friends. But they spoke Pittsburghese saying gum band, rubbish, pop and liberry instead of rubber band, trash, soda and library. I was sent to Catholic school which was completely different than the 4 room schoolhouse I was used to. We had nuns for teachers. There were strict rules. They didn’t even know how to do recess!
After two years in Catholic school, I transferred public school. I felt like I fit in there. It was awesome for a year and half, until my mother moved us in February to the ghetto and I had to start over at a new school with new kids once again.
This starting over pattern continued when we moved again before I started high school.
When I went to college, I joined the wrestling team as the only walk-on who had never wrestled before and the only wrestler who didn’t live on campus. I took all honors courses and maintained a brutal academic load. With 2 hours of daily bus rides, wrestling practice, classes, studying and squeezing in dates with my girlfriend, I had no time to socialize with others on campus at all (or sleep much).
I was definitely disconnected from campus life. No fraternity, no parties, no dating, no college friends.
A few years later, when I was 21, I met my wife and moved in with her. I was 21. She was 39 and had a 5 year old son and a 10 year old daughter. I became an instant husband and step dad.
My old friends were busy with their college lives – frat parties, dating, studying and partying. I was raising kids and trying to find jobs that paid more than minimum wage.
My wife’s friends and peers were her age. They were established in their careers, owned homes and cars, and were in their 40s. I was out of my element for sure.
Over the next 30 years, I never really fit in with any group. At work, I was older than many of my coworkers because it took me 10 years to work my way into entry level positions that they started straight out of college. And they were all fresh faced recent college grads while I was a guy living like a middle aged family man.
And now, I’m widowed, solo and retired. I’ve been this way for 4 years.
At the pool, which is my primary hobby that I do around there people, I swim with two groups of people –
- People my age who are mid career and focused on raising their kids.
- Retirees who are grandparents in their 70s +
I’ve not met anyone my age who doesn’t fit into one of these two groups.
So here’s the thing I’ve come to realize. I have never fit in longtime- anywhere – except with my wife.
At times, I’ve had close and rewarding relationships with friends and colleagues. Connections with these people happened because we worked or lived in close proximity. But when I moved or switched jobs, these connections disappeared.
Also, I made intentional, deliberate choices about my life that have led me directly down a path of solo living. I am introverted. I like working alone. I like doing activities that are self directed. I prefer my own company to being around others.
And there’s nothing wrong with that.
When I was growing up, I wanted to fit in. I wanted to be cool. I wanted to have a lot of friends and be popular. I never was the most popular kid, but I did fine.
Looking back, I had some fantastic friendships. I had some wonderful girlfriends. I adored my wife. I was able to “fit in” well enough to make my way through school, work and life without compromising my values and what was most important to me.
As an adult, I realized that not fitting in was fine. In fact, it was better than fine for me.
That’s a good thing because I am certainly the odd man out. It’s wonderful to not have to worry about making myself more appealing to others. I don’t need to compromise, compensate or change the way I live to fit in.
I fit in perfectly – with myself.