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I have a good family and good friends, but I’ve long carried the sense that I’m somewhat…misaligned.
It often feels like everyone around me is tuned to one frequency, and I am listening to something else entirely. I’ve come to see myself as the outlier — the one asking questions no one else cares to ask.
It’s not a sad or dramatic feeling. It’s just the way things are.
A few of our differences are easy to spot:
>> I am quick to the call of adventure; they tend to play it safe.
>> Small talk and safe topics bore me; they find those most appealing.
>> I tend to fight against security and comfort; they long for it.
>> I love to read books for lifelong learning; if they read, they read for pleasure.
>> I’m drawn to philosophy; no one around me cares to talk about it.
>> I speak directly; they find that a little “too much.”
None of this makes anyone better or worse — just different. But those differences add up. And for as long as I can remember, I’ve carried the sneaking awareness that, in my own circle, I don’t quite fit the mold.
But I also know I’m not alone.
And that got me thinking…
You know this saying, “When life gives you lemons, make lemonade.” It’s meant to steer you to embrace the way things are, as they are, and work with what you’ve got. It is good advice. There really is no point to wishing for something that is not there.
But what if life gives you oranges?
What if, in a world full of lemons, you are handed something unexpected? Is that a good thing or a bad one? Does the general statement of the proverbial phrase ring true?
It’s an interesting question. When you’re handed something unexpected, it’s true there’s no use complaining about it. But the fact is that we live in communities. None of us are truly happy being alone, nor can we truly live our lives away from others.
So if the world is full of lemons, and for some reason you’ve got oranges, what do you do?
From what I can tell, you’ve got three options:
>> Get mad and spend your life resenting the oranges.
>> Do your best to fit in and disguise the oranges.
>> Make the orange juice and enjoy it, and find the people who accept the difference and live life.
The third seems like the best option.
But as soon as we replace the orange with one of our real-life quirks, it’s clear how often we default to options one or two instead. We can spend years resentful of the fact that, in a capitalist society, we might not be built for business. And it won’t be hard to think of an acquaintance that seems resentful of the world, for one reason or another. Or sometimes we hide our quirks, like maybe we love drawing but hide it from the world. Many claim that their particular interest is a lost art.
It takes time, and a lot of life lived, to get to option three and put it in action.
The quirks we have, the interests that seem so random or unpopular, make us feel like there is a gap between us and the rest of the world. Because the truth is we all have a few oranges in a world that appears to be full of lemons.
So in order for us to make the orange juice and enjoy what we have, and how we have it — how we are built, and the parts of us we can’t change — it seems we have to be okay being different.
It often starts with small acts of courage. You start by naming your truth, pursuing a passion, and gradually building up to unapologetically sharing it and doing what makes you happy.
The gap between us and the rest of the world may never go away, at least not entirely. But given that we can all feel this way at times, isn’t that in itself a pointer to how similar we actually are? Sure, what makes me different is different from what makes you different — but the feeling that comes with it is surprisingly universal. We both feel the same way about it.
So, no matter what kind of fruit we are each given, it is probably in our best interest to use it. To show it to the world, and let ourselves be as authentic as possible. With authenticity comes the inevitable encounter with someone who will either show you they feel the same way, or at least accept you as you are, despite the differences.
In a world that feels so lonely, our willingness to be authentic might just be the bridge that connects us.
And connection is, after all, the whole point.
~
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