When I was growing up, I always had this feeling that I wasn't quite the same as everyone else. To start with, it was simply that I was the girl, rather than the boy or the Mummy or the Daddy. As I grew older and started to mix with other little girls, the feeling of difference intensified because, although I could never have explained why, I just wasn't the same as them.
It was hard to define just how it felt; I didn't understand them and they didn't understand me but it wasn't clear why. I knew that I found them boring, I was much happier immersed in a book or in the fascinating world of my own thoughts than sitting around chatting about fairies and dolls. Being made to go and play with someone else was rather a chore - unless they had interesting books that I hadn't read or lego to play with. More than once, the child I was visiting went off to play with other people or toys and left me happily browsing through their bookshelves. I assumed that the reason they didn't interest me was simply because they liked different things. I had no interest in ballet or ponies, which seemed to be the popular little-girl interests of my younger days. On the other hand, they had little interest in books or numbers, which were the things that interested me.
I was aware, early on, that I was clever for my age; I could read when I was still at nursery school and I remember being surprised when I discovered, on starting school, that the other children didn't even know their alphabet or their numbers. Even when I had class-mates on a similar level, I didn't have enough in common with them to develop strong friendships. I was described as a "remote" child, who didn't mix well other children. Books and learning gave me stimulation that other people just couldn't provide.
When I think about it now, I feel as though I am a spectator in my own life. I watch the world through eyes that belong to a girl I don't really know; I feel like an alien visitor without a guide book, in a body without an instruction manual. Somewhere along the line my brain was wired up incorrectly and the senses were left on the wrong settings. Sounds can be too loud and intrusive, like the boiler, which has an irritating whistle that no-one else can hear, yet I don't hear the oven timer beeping until my sons point it out because when I concentrate on something else I shut it all out. Smells and tastes are just too strong - the faint whiff of gas when I light a burner makes me fear there is a gas leak. Artificial fragrances and air fresheners can overwhelm me; when bombarded with other people's shampoo, shower gel and deodorant I have to try not to pull away. Too much sensory information will overload me - too much noise and activity will leave me feeling panicked so that I just want to escape.
This feeling of not fitting has been with me as long as I can remember. I am gradually learning to ignore it or override it but it still lingers in the background. It makes it very hard to make friends when I have this overwhelming feeling of not belonging that makes me withdraw before I have really had a chance to get involved. I certainly feel that the description of a square peg in a round hole is perfect for me. Not fitting in with my own body is a harder obstacle to overcome; when I feel little connection to my own body it makes it much harder to behave responsibly towards it. I seem to be missing a connection between my mind and my body - exercise and healthy eating seem to be a little too much effort when I don't feel the reward. My reflection doesn't feel like the real me and changing my body shape makes little difference to my mind. Health problems just feel like persecution from a body that doesn't like me; I blame it and then punish it when I should be trying to heal it.
How will I get over this? I really don't know. Trying to explore my own feelings might give me some insight, some connection. If I can finally accept that this 42-year-old woman really is "Me" then maybe I can try and have a little more sympathy for her and treat her a little better. Meeting other people with similar minds may help too - thanks to the internet we can connect without having to worry about inconveniences like body language and eye contact. Maybe I am just longing for people to understand me, so that I feel less alone, less of an alien in a stranger's body.
