This archive Sunday post originally appeared on March 13, 2011. To see the original post and comments, go here.
When I was in the 10th grade I went to my first formal dance. I went with great loathing and trepidation, secure that I was selling out my punk rock authenticity by partaking in this nightmare of rigidly defined gender identification. Really, of course I was scared and worried that my fellow attendees would take one look at me and announce, “You clearly don’t belong here.” Now that I am old and wise beyond all measure I know that it isn’t just that kids can be kind as well as cruel it is also that no one is paying as much attention to you as you think they are.
But I didn’t know that then. So I took precautions. I found a Sharpie marker and drew the outline of a diamond on the bottom of my $9.99 Payless flats. No matter how horrible and outcast I felt at this social rite, I would be able to close my eyes and remind myself, “At least…I am the only girl here with diamonds on the soles of her shoes.”
And that really did help.
Since then, I find myself repeating similarly random assurances to myself. Just yesterday I was stopped at a light here in Cheyenne that looks out over pastureland and the refinery that was shooting jets of fire up in to a cold grey sky. It is a scene that I am particularly fond of and Daniel Johnston happened to be singing on my stereo, “I was born in a Devil Town, didn’t know it was a Devil Town…” which helped. I found myself thinking, “Yes, I am finding my job stressful, this pregnancy erratic and other facets of my life similarly chaotic but…at least I have this. At least I have scenes that I find beautiful and moving and rare.”
As I continued my drive I thought of the times I have heard in real life or on the bloggernacle, “at least I have the Gospel.” It struck me that the typical tone that I hear that refrain is one of smugness or condescension. But surely not always. Or maybe my “feminist and faithful” friends have unconsciously ceded that ground to the more orthodox? So what do you think? Are there times that the Church or the Gospel have provided the touchstone that you needed and you haven’t expressed it? What are other ways you tell yourself, ”at least I have…” ?