I’m Weird

Weird. It’s quite a word. As a kid you never wanted to be called weird because back then it meant that you were different in a negative way. In the circles that I run in now being weird is good because if you are weird in the world of debt free living then you are not living like everyone else and going into debt for the things that you want. Instead you save up your money like great grandma did and pay for the stuff  you want with cash.

Weird as defined in the dictionary begins at bizarre then becomes eccentric, funky and extraordinary. I love being weird with money. I love the satisfaction of paying for stuff with cash. I love that we are getting closer and closer to being out of debt and I so look forward to the day when we are completely free from the constrains of debt. So this kind of weird makes me giddy and excited and proud to shout my weirdness from the rooftops.

Now I face another kind of weird that makes me a little less comfortable. I was diagnosed with cancer on New Years Eve, 2014. And at that moment I became different. Not that I chose it, and no one else chose it for me. It just happened. We had plans that evening to spend with friends up the river, so we kept our plans with the goal of trying to be as normal as possible. Which for the most part it was. The difference was the looks of sadness that I kept getting from across the room. It was also the petting. As everyone began to have a beer or two and started to feel more comfortable they began to give me side hugs and loving back rubs etc. Now there are some of my friends that are just touchers, so I am used to the affectionate little pats every now and then. But this? This was waaay different. Men, kids, women, grandparents all took their turn at petting me at least once during the evening. No one knew what to do or say so obviously this was a natural response to an uncomfortable situation. They all love me and were responding in the only way they knew how. But still, it made me want to paint a neon sign to my forehead that said, “Pet me! I’m Weird!”

Cancer Nite 12/31/14

When Aimee was alive that was her biggest pet peeve. She could not stand to be petted, and I never quite understood it, until now. I even foresook the taboo in her last few  hours with us. I stroked and stroked her arm as I was saying goodbye. I even told her as it was happening  and that I was sorry because I knew how much she hated it. I just didn’t know what else to do and it made me feel better, yes, I’m selfish. So I understand when other people, pet. Everyone is uncomfortable and they want you to know that they care. I have to say though that I really don’t care for it any more than she did because it sets you apart as different in a negative way from the rest.

I love that people care and that they want to reach out. I just in this instance I don’t really care for being the weird one.

Are You Weird?