Harold and Self Worth

YOU KNOW HOW THEY SAY, “sometimes you’re the bird, and sometimes you’re the worm”? Or  “sometimes you’re the windshield, sometimes you’re the bug.”?

Well today, I was this duck.

I mean, I had two legs just like the rest of them…but I just didn’t fit in.

I was a bird of a different color. A misfit. An outcast.

Plus my hair looked a bit, well, ruffled.

I can’t help it – there’s a lot going on in this crazy little head of mine and the chaos was bound to come spewing out when I least expected it. I shouldn’t bottle things in and try to deal with them on my own in the first place, but I do. Because I hate burdening others with my petty drama. Because I hate feeling like a failure. Because I’m scared to say things that may upset others. Because I’m a people pleaser. There are a thousand reasons why I didn’t share what I was thinking and had a bit of a breakdown today because of it.

So I did the first thing I could think of and told Ashley that she was hanging out with me tonight. Aspen was excited to see me, and that helped.

Ashley asked what we wanted to do  – our friend Megan was with us and the first thing I could think of was, “let’s go feed some ducks”.

Once we found out that only the carp wanted our food, Aspen started eating the cereal herself instead.

And I started trying to text/tweet/take photos on my phone.

As we were leaving, disappointed and craving food ourselves, Ashley spotted a group of rather hungry looking birds.

We fed them for a few minutes, Aspen chucking handfuls of Cinnamon Toast Crunch (or was it Fiber One?) out the window and eating a few in-between while I leaned half out the window and contemplated that duck. Was he really a loner? Did the other ducks notice his appearance? Did he notice his appearance?

For some stupid reason, I thought about that duck all night. I felt bad for the duck. I pitied him. I was mad that the other ducks alienated him and didn’t let him play in their ducky games. I was mad that they probably said mean things behind his back and didn’t like his hair-do.

As the night wound down, I did something I wouldn’t normally do. Ash was tired, Aspen was begging me to, and I was sore and stressed so I got into the tub with my niece. (Relax. She’s only two. She won’t remember.) As I was getting ready to get in she pointed at me and screamed “BOOBS!!!” at the top of her lungs, and I hesitated.

Not because I was embarrassed – although I was a bit – no. I hesitated because I felt like that damn duck again, singled out. Why couldn’t I stop thinking about the duck!?

“Come in Auwbrey!” She called. I spent the majority of twenty minutes wracking my brain for any songs that I remembered from my Child Care class, and I realized I was doing it again. There I sat…fully grown, in a tub, trying to impress someone. Trying to impress a two year old.

You wanna know what impressed her the most?

Cold water.

She just wanted me to pour a cup of cold water on her head. Nothing fancy, nothing complicated. She didn’t expect much from me, but she loved me just the same. And you know what I learned? Suddenly it’s not so bad being this duck. I am unique, I am my own color. I can fit in if I want to or stand out if I don’t.

As for the real duck? Well I named him Harold, and I think him and I are going to be just fine.