You are special.
That is the one sentence that everyone seems to have grown up
with. In my generation, if not others at least.
It’s weird because I don’t actually remember my parents ever
saying that to me. It’s not like they would console me for not coming first, or
saying that I was meant for better things if something didn’t work out. Quite
the contrary in fact. What was expected of me is what I assume most Indian
parents expect of their kids, study hard, get good grades, get a good job, work
hard, and raise kids to probably follow that cycle again.
And I haven’t always delivered on the promises of that cycle
to them.
Yet, somewhere in that cycle, in the middle of Jeffrey
Archers and people that think differently, it came up and engrained itself, “You
are special”.
And I’m not alone.
But that’s the issue, isn’t it? Not everyone can be special.
At least not in the conventional way. Not every one can be an over achiever.
Not even close, in fact.
According to a study that had gone viral quite some years
back, our generation grows up being told we’re different and special. And with
social media around to ensure that we know about each and every person’s
smallest achievement, we end up with bigger complexes about ourselves than any
generation before us.
I was once told by a friend, who falls under the category of
being 'special', that I was not considered by his group of other ‘special’
people, as an over achiever. I was, let’s admit it, normal.
And I couldn’t really stand it. It hurt me to the extent
that it hurt our friendship, and I never really could open up to him as much
anymore. But, was he really wrong?
I spent my Saturday sleeping all day, and intermittently
checking facebook to see three different friends being called to speak at
conventions as experts. People have been called back to our alma maters as guest
faculties. People have their own companies. People have quit their jobs to
travel and write. And I spend over three hours on the road each day, working my
ass off for a job I don’t necessarily love (it doesn’t matter that I’m good at
it), growing fat, and losing the skill of writing.
How does one get out of this rut?
How does one believe once again, that you are, in fact,
meant to be special?
Or does one just accept, that maybe, you’re not? That you chose this.
And this is how life will be, always… Normal.
