Prompt 8: "Beautifully Different"

December 8 – Beautifully Different.
Think about what makes you different and what you do that lights people up. Reflect on all the things that make you different – you’ll find they’re what make you beautiful.
(Author: Karen Walrond)

I didn't see any warm welcomes for this prompt when it first showed up.  A lot of the responses that I read felt that this prompt was self serving or aggrandizing.  I felt a little arrogant when I was reading those posts because I was initially excited to respond.  Don't mistake my very late posting for a lack of enthusiasm, just a symptom of an otherwise busy weekend.

One of the things I liked about this prompt is that it was asking me to self-reflect more on myself than on the past year, because as stated previously, this year wasn't that exciting or momentous.  I hope my readers will excuse my hubris for a few paragraphs while I try to write out some of my personally favorite traits.

The first thing to come to mind was a time when my good friend Katie told me how much she missed hearing me laugh.  Our friendship had suffered as we struggled to figure out our plans after college graduation and we hadn't seen much of each other despite being very close previously.  I knew what she meant as soon as she said it though, because around Katie I would never try to hold back my laughter.  If something made me laugh, and I often would laugh when we were together, I would guffaw loudly and without the slightest care for the people around me.  In my mind, if someone is affronted by laughter than their quarrel is an internal issue, not with me. 

Katie was right, I hadn't laughed so freely in a long time when she mentioned it.  One thing she still doesn't know is, I rarely would laugh that way around anyone else, it was something that had grown out of our supportive and caring friendship and the way we let our guard down when we spent time together.  Unfortunately, after I realized it was lacking, I started trying to bring that same sense of joy out more often, but even to myself my laughter can sound forced sometimes.  The fact is, true joy is a product of our company, more that ourselves.

I think one of the things that makes me different from a lot of men is how deeply I connect to characters in movies and theatre, or even particularly moving pieces of music without any characters to watch.  There may be many factors at play, and I don't mean to raise a question of masculinity, but when I feel intense joy or witness a particularly human moment, I get teary eyed.  My sister is the same, and we joke that it's genetic.  Maybe it is genes, our mother certainly does it, but I'd like to think that the kind of empathy involved is something that we've learned, through a caring upbringing, or perhaps with just the right amount of "want" that we can identify and celebrate the best in others, or be moved when we observe something touching. 

In a similar way, I've always been glad to share a talent for listening to other people express their problems and concerns and offer insight if possible, but mostly just provide that warm shoulder and lend an ear.  Frequently I ponder if this is the path I was meant for all along, some kind of counseling or therapy, but the realities of the profession make me hesitant.  I don't want to learn to be calloused enough to leave my work at the office, or ever let psychological theory lead me to behave in a way counter to my instincts.

There may be many reasons that the people who are my friends are drawn to me, but beyond physical features and socio-economic status, I think one of my gifts as a friend is being that person who can listen and support quietly, or even come up with good advice with enough time to reflect.  It may not be beautifully different, but I consider it part of my beauty.