There is no gentle, eloquent way to say this and, please forgive my crass language ; it pissed me off. And when I get angry I do all of the unhealthy things I was taught to do with my emotions. I eat the anger, obsess about it, internalize it and let it fester. Then, six years later, I write about it in a public blog. If I had a therapist, she would be so proud.
Quirky is an adjective meaning to be characterized by peculiar or unexpected traits.
It is a simple word that triggered complex pain. Quirky means outside of the norm. Quirky means different. Quirky means target. Quirky means sitting alone on a Saturday as a middle-school student watching the Love Boat and hoping to have the energy to stay awake through an entire episode of Saturday Night Live. The label of quirky being applied to me in my thirties felt like a kick to the gut. Still? Quirky? Me?
Now I own it. I rock it. I make quirky look good.
Pastor and Comedian? Yup. Unexpected trait.
Can quote scripture and most of Return of the Jedi verbatim? Yup. How peculiar.
Able to stay awake for Saturday Night Live? Nope. Not yet.
I’m quirky enough to be an unexpected delight even to myself.
Thank God for that.