Outsiders

Outsiders
I remember coming home one day when I was 14 years old crying…my mother opened the door with a worried look upon her face. This was an unusual site for her… you see I never cried, at least not in the open where others could see me. My mother was used to a little warrior marching into the house, smile on, books in hand and always a new tale to tell from the day. This young girl who walked in with red eyes brimming with endless tears was a new fragile person to her. She looked at me asking what could be wrong. There are times in life when even the strong break.

Earlier that day at gymnastics I had introduced my new floor exercise routine. I worked hard and long for many hours down in the small judo room putting this 1 minute and 30 second debut together. I had played the music Exodus over and over at times breaking it down to 2 or 3 seconds in order to perfect the right movement with the notes from the piano music. At night when I laid in bed I replayed the music in my head and each movement until I visualized my body in perfect unison with the music. I loved this routine. I was proud of it knowing that it reflected me... what lived with in my spirit. It was mine.. not a routine made up by a coach for me to mimic but me dancing, leaping, flipping and spinning one with the music. I choreographed it to reflect how I felt and wanted to communicate to the judges. It was me.

That day Eileen my coach asked if she could see the new routine. I usually did not perform my new optional floor ex until the meet. Always one for the dramatic entrance! But that day her smile was large and I knew she really wanted to see my work. Nodding okay, I handed her the album (yes album! Vinyl!) walked out to the middle of the carpeted mat centering myself and struck a pose. The music started slowly a building force and as usual I got lost … a point where there is only my spirit, the music and my body. I worked my way through leaping with precision each arm movement joined with a beat. As the tempo built I performed back handsprings ending with a perfect full twisting somersault. (I was the only one who could do this trick so ego was involved!) Slowing again as I worked my way onto the ground now one with the mat as I gracefully lowered myself onto the carpet for the final dramatic pose. Done!

I remember coming back to the gym from the music center that lived within me. Eileen standing there no words… but slowly the laughter began…all my teammates… the girls who I shared hours of my life with in this gym laughing at me. I remember Dayna who was my closest friend on the team saying, " You think you will win with that????" They began to mimic some of my moves with clumsy gestures and laughed harder. I recall hearing Eileen telling them to stop as I ran out of the gym. Tears rolling down my face I gathered my things and ran home. I was never one to run before so why now?

There I was then standing in the door my mother asking me what could be wrong? How can a 14 year old girl explain to her mother the exhaustion caused by living outside the world of the norm? I could not explain it to myself so how could I voice this torture to my mother who loved me so much? It was not just my gymnastics that classified me as an outsider, rather it was everything about me. The way I danced, thought, dressed and what I believed in. It was the boys I fell in love with, the fact that I loved school and rather be there then anywhere else! It was how I sat in the back yard for hours staring at the sky filled with clouds, the birds and trees. The fact that I would rather read a book than talk on the phone. It was the friends I picked and teachers I loved. It was everything about me and for the first time I realized that I was an outsider different than others and I did not fit in! This was the reason for running and the tears. I sat on the couch and told my mother my tale of humiliating laughter from the girls I believed to be friends. To this day I remember my mother smiling, shaking her head and grabbing my hand. She took me into my bedroom where the walls were lined with trophies, ribbons, plaques and medals. She looked at me with pride and said "Denise, Do they have all of these?" I miserably shook my head No, She replied "This is what being different.. unique (nice way of putting it) will always get you..." as she ran her hand across the hundreds of awards I had received through the years. She finished "So why would you want to be like them?" My mother sat me on my bed facing those ribbons and medals telling me about artists whom had been laughed at the same way and now where considered to be masters. She told me of great scientists and leaders who had the same ridicule laced through out their lives and now are looked upon with awe. My mother told me that those who are willing to stand tall and be different change this world and she believed that this power lived within me. She wiped the tears away and told me to be strong. She gave me that day a gift I will carry to my grave. I performed that routine with more passion then I thought possible. I won over and over again. Slowly my fellow teammates laughter faded from my head.

This 30 minutes spent with my mother at the age of 14 has returned to me numerous times in my life…. always giving me strength to be different...return to school at the age of 33 and graduate with honors. To search in areas of life that others find "crazy" or repulsive. When I was told at the age of 21 I could not possibly dive from 113 feet for a world record… I climbed that ladder and proved them wrong. Have I always made the right choices? Who knows…I dance to a different beat and that is just fine with me today. Call me crazy, insane, whacked or just plain nuts! I will always hold my head up high... remember the words my mother told me and open the next door in my life with hope, joy and insane anticipation of the next adventure!

Lady Lorraine