Introspections of a Nobody

I've always wanted to be the best.  It didn't really matter at what, just the best
- really at everything.  My first realizations of mediocrity came in high school.  I
realized I was not ever going to be the best at soccer.  Then I realized that I was
too timid to be the best in choir or in our district musicals.  One thing I was good
at was school. But I wasn't the best.  I didn't win awards (at least not very many)
because I was just a tad lazy - so needless to say, I was not valedictorian.

In my quest to be best, I didn't really take dedication into account.  I struggled in
college because I had never really worked in school before.  I had excelled based on
innate ability, not hard work.  As I found myself trying to choose a career path, I
discovered that I had too many interests and not enough specialization (or money) to
bring my ambitions of being best to fruition.  Did you know that there's no career
field for "best" or "best wannabe."

I still don't doubt that I could be best, but I have not figured out in which area
"best" resides with me.  I cannot be the best blogger because I am too afraid to tell
the things about me that are interesting.  I am too worried about what people will
think.

Therein, lies the problem, I think.  As a teacher, I still strive to be best - as in
better than everyone else.  I have not yet accomplished this feat, but I think my
motivation may be skewed - at least it was.  I used to want to be the best for
recognition, FAME!!  Now I have realized that my desire to be best stemmed from
wanting to be memorable.  I have always felt that people forget my existence when I
am not in the same room with them - even my parents.  I'm sure there was some
traumatic experience in my childhood that led to these feelings, but I will probably
never remember what it was.  Perhaps the fact that my mother found it difficult to
bond with me as a baby - a tidbit of information she disclosed to my younger sister
during her first pregnancy as a caution against having an epidural - a tidbit
never shared with me directly.

Now as a still-single woman of 35, I worry that I will be forgotten. I am not the
teacher the kids come back to visit.  I am not, to my knowledge, anyone's favorite
aunt.  I have one sibling out of six who calls me - and parents who expect me to do
all the calling.  I am not popular - despite the amazing number of old friends I
claim, I do not receive Christmas or birthday cards.  I have never created anyhing
memorable and I cannot see any real change in my future.  I have become a creature
of shadow.  I exist to work and help others with no real love or recognition in
exchange.

I now know why I have always desired to be best, but it brings me no satisfaction.  I
grew up in a home with little support for dreams and wishes - just academic and home
arts excellence.  There were few hugs and only slightly more "I'm proud of yous". I
grew up desperate for physical affection, but unaware that that's what was missing.
I tried to be best because I believed that was where love, approval, and fame
came from.

I have discovered that although I can plan an excellent party or activity, I am not
the person people want to hang out with at the activity.  I am not the one they want
to date and not the one they want to marry.  I am nobody.  The person in the
background providing opportunities and wishing someone would make some for me.

If you are reading this, look past the mist and "see" me.  I'm standing right there.