This quote from Margaret Mead is one of my favorites and I think it captures the essence of one aspect of coming of age. When we enter our teen years, we start contemplating the world around us and we begin a process of comparison. We compare our parents to the parents of other teens (other parents are ALWAYS cooler than our parents.) We compare our hometown to other locations (someplace else always sounds better,) and we compare ourselves to others.
After a brief time comparing ourselves to others, I think that almost every teen comes to the same conclusion: I am drastically different from everyone else who inhabits this planet. It is understandable that teens have this belief. As they experience themselves and their social environment, they are aware of each little thought that crosses through their consciousness. They know every insecurity they have ever confronted. They know all of their idiosyncrasies like not stepping on cracks in the sidewalk or counting the steps as they ascend a stairway.
In contrast, what they know about every other human is limited to the persona that the other person projects, the carefully controlled and monitored image which receives constant attention. You don't know that the head cheerleader suffers from depression because she never lets anyone know. You don't know that the Brad Pitt look-alike in your history class thinks he's ugly and is nervous every time he talks to a girl. All that you know is that the head cheerleader and Brad Pitt, Jr. are beautiful people and certainly they must lead charmed lives - or, at least, that is what you think you know.
I believe that most of us go through our early lives being quite certain that we are an outcast alien in a human body, living among real humans, and scared of the day when we might be discovered. However, as I processed through my 20's, I realized that most people felt this way so this conclusion must be invalid. I realized that my conclusion was based on severely skewed information, and I stopped beating myself up for being different.
Not everyone comes to this realization. My ex-wife (Lynn) had this problem of perception. I was friends with a married couple who she thought had an ideal life. They are both attractive people, their children are grown, and they earned a substantial income. One Saturday, I invited them to go with us to dinner and the symphony. Over dinner, they talked about the problems they had with a drug addicted son and how health problems of which we had previously been unaware had seriously curtailed their activities and their enjoyment of life. Lynn was stunned! But I had long ago stopped assuming that other people live perfect lives and I was not amazed.
So, yes, I am different. There is no one else on this planet who is identical to me. But the differences aren't important differences. I am different in ways that all fall within the normal range of variation within our species, so I am unique . . . but just like everyone else!
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