How It Feels to March to the Beat of Your Own Drum
The Life of a Nonconformist
Nine times out of ten, if it seems like everyone is doing something, I’m compelled to do the opposite.
I’m not sure why. I think I was just born that way. I may have inherited some of my determination to just be me from my dad. He was a major nonconformist to the tenth degree. In fact, he pushed the envelope so far that it was dangerous, but I’ve concluded that he really couldn’t help himself. That was just who he was, too.
We are who we are, they say.
As a digital nomad, I have met people all over the world. I recognize a free spirit when I run into one. We aren’t a dime a dozen, but all cultures have their share. We usually aren’t card-carrying members of any particular club. Membership comes with too many restrictions. We float from one social group to another, never fully fitting in. We don’t mind, however. To belong would be suffocating. We settle for picking and choosing individuals from various groups — people of interest. God forbid we’d be required to spend too much time with someone who bores us.
That would be a slow death.
When I decided to retire at age 54, sell everything, and travel the world, people were surprised but curious. All of my colleagues simply couldn’t imagine doing something so brash. They watched from afar, but it just wasn’t for them. They preferred living the same day over and over. It was safe, familiar, and comforting, even if, at times, they were bored. I couldn’t settle.
We were just that different, I guess.
In all fairness, there were lots of things that they cared about that simply meant very little to me. For example, I’ve never cared about holidays, except for the fact that the working class gets a paid day off. But all the rituals and traditions surrounding Christmas, Easter, and Thanksgiving are lost on me. I’ll come along for the ride, even participate by preparing a dish and buying gifts, but if it were left up to me, I’d just as soon take the day off to read a book or indulge in a scenic drive.
I never cared about weddings. Why not just pull on a pair of jeans and show up at the courthouse? All the pomp and ceremony seems like a horrible waste of money. And a big wedding certainly doesn’t ensure that a marriage will last. Many of my friends have been married multiple times. I, on the other hand, had the smallest wedding in the world, but we’ve been married for 55 years.
Go figure.
I don’t enjoy sitting with a group of women and engaging in “girl talk.” Don’t get me wrong; I adore a deep conversation with any of my friends when they’re in the mood, but comparing notes about our children, boyfriends, or husbands doesn’t hold my attention for long. I’ll admit I have surrounded myself with a small coven of witches — individuals that I have met over the years. We’ve all become more interesting as we’ve aged. When I’m starved for conversation, I seek out their company.
Material things don’t impress me.
I might even be a little suspicious of someone with too much stuff. To each his own, but the old hippie in me is more about experiences than things. I’m always looking for the next adventure. That’s one thing that has really separated me from the masses, especially in our American consumer culture. We’re judged by how much money we make and how much stuff we’ve gathered.
Don’t get me wrong.
I know the importance of a roof over my head, a warm bed, and a full belly, but once my basic needs are met, more stuff doesn’t fulfill me in the least. In fact, I often see it as an encumbrance. I was never so happy and free as during the four years that I lived everywhere but nowhere, with nothing more than a carry-on suitcase to hold my belongings. It was like being seventeen again with money.
I’ve stood in the dark on the edge of a ravine across from an erupting volcano in Guatemala.
I’ve explored the excavated city of Pompeii. Yes, I have a thing for volcanoes. Let me plan my next trip abroad, and I’ll show you excitement. I can spend hours taking back roads to God knows where. Show me the Amalfi coastline or Coastal Route One in California. Give me the chance to explore ancient castles. Let me park my car on the Ring of Kerry and enjoy an expansive vista. I’ll take that over a name-brand pair of shoes or a handbag any day of the week.
That’s just me.
The thing about those of us who find it difficult to conform is that we die a slow death if we’re forced to adhere to all of the social requirements. We watch the rest of the world go by from our peculiar point of view, and it just feels like wearing our shoes on the wrong feet. We’re constantly aware that it’s not a good fit for us.
Are we all introverts and loners?
I don’t think so. I’m an introvert, but being an introvert isn’t the same thing as being a nonconformist. An introvert requires plenty of alone time in order to recharge their batteries. We definitely enjoy our own company, but we can also enjoy the company of others in moderation. But an introvert can still adhere to the social norms of any culture. No big deal. Whereas a nonconformist can’t, at least not with any ease. If the rules don’t align with their own interests, likes, dislikes, or even values, it’s extremely uncomfortable to play along.
And since social norms, rules, and expectations are made up, many of us see them for what they are: a bit of nonsense.
Oh, well, please don’t think for one minute that I begrudge those of you who fit in nicely and seem to enjoy the whole socialization process. I can give credit where credit is due. You are no doubt the glue that holds your society together. We all fulfill different roles, I suppose.
So what purpose does a nonconformist serve, if any?
Well, maybe we’re there to introduce a different way of looking at things. Maybe we offer variety, which allows for new ideas to creep in and sometimes take over. A monotone world would be rather boring and could easily limit a society’s ability to solve problems.
Being different isn’t always bad.
In fact, diversity is a game changer. Whenever we are given lots of options, we fare better. There must be some reason nonconformists exist. It can’t all be bad. I know we can seem odd at times, but there must be some explanation for why we’re the way we are since we seem to exist in every society across the planet.
Heck, I don’t know.
Teresa is an author and professional myth buster. You can find her books on Amazon.
