We're only one week into the Spring semester of school, but for the first time in a long time I'm feeling cautiously optimistic about my classes. Being my last semester, I was sure I'd be able to get into the classes I wanted, because seniors have first priority in registration, but due to a comedy of errors from the department combined with last-minute cancellations of courses I'd already registered for, I ended up feeling like I was stuck scraping the bottom of the barrel. However, I did end up in a couple of theatre classes involving playwriting. Besides the required academic writing courses, I haven't gotten to take any writing classes during my time in college. I had originally hoped to minor in playwriting, but as a theater major I wasn't allowed, and then declared a screenwriting minor but had to drop it in order to graduate on time. So, this week these two classes have had me bursting with excitement at the opportunity for a creative outlet.
But beyond the satisfaction of writing my own ideas, I have been really surprised at the writing I've heard from my classmates. Not surprised because they're talented (although they are), but because it's shocking how much just one or two writing assignments changed my perspectice of who these people are.
You see, I have self-diagnosed myself with chronic unicorn syndrome. If you've never heard that tern before, I would describe it as extreme self-centeredness masquerading as lack of self confidence. Or the other way around. I'm not really sure. But basically, it means I think that I am the exception to otherwise universal experiences and that everyone else is united and apart from me. I think many people experience some version of unicorn syndrome in different areas, but for me, I tend to think that other people, especially people my age, are constantly judging me while they are all sitting around thinking how amazing they are. I frequently try to remind myself something a professor once told me, that other people think about you 99% less than you think about yourself, but my unicorn syndrome tells me that that's true for most people but not me, because certainly everyone else is going home thinking that they can't believe how horrible my monologue performance was or how stupid I looked when I raised my hand in class and then forgot what I was going to say.
I don't know if it's because I was so shy in elementary school, or because I skipped a grade and felt "less cool" than my peers because I was younger than them in high school, but for some reason these feelings tend to only manifest when I'm around other people my age. I do some really dumb things in front of the Stagebugz kids all the time, and I hardly ever feel embarrassed or self-conscious. Same with older adults; besides if Ashley and I get into a fight in front of someone I usually to feel confident around people who are older than me. But because I am so self-conscious around my peers, I can't help but believe that most of them think they're better than me. Unless they practically jump up to hug me when I walk in the room, it's hard for me not to assume that nobody wants to talk to me or be my friend. I've been trying really hard to work on this and to be more assertive, but I still struggle with labelling certain people, usually the girls who look ten years older than me and seem to have a million best friends, as "popular" and then convincing myself that they are judgy and mean. (Which is ironic because this makes me the one who is being judgemental and mean).
Okay, so, what does that have to do with writing? Several of these girls who seem to be loved by everyone and have effortless confidence are in a writing class with me. I literally told Ashley after the first day that I thought I was going to like the professor but that the class was full of "all the popular kids who don't like me." The other day, one of these girls (let's call her Susan) read a memory she had written about a time she was deliberately singled out and left out of a group of "cool girls" that she was trying to be friends with. She talked about being really shy and too afraid to try to meet other people and make friends, and how she was always worried people wouldn't like her.
I was honestly shocked. Every word she read easily could have been written by me. I couldn't believe that Susan had ever worried about not being liked, when I assumed she was sitting around thinking she was better than everyone. Clearly, she was just as insecure as me. I feel embarrassed and a little bit like a 12-year-old girl, because I think I should be mature enough by now to understand that most people aren't just watching me thinking how they're so superior. But like I said, unicorn syndrome.
Susan's story stuck out the most, but throughout the week I continued to be surprised as my classmates would share memories and read pieces that expressed thoughts almost identical to mine. In my playwriting class we had to write a statement about what we believed, and I started with a long paragraph about what I wanted to say I believed, and then half an hour later realized that was all bull**** because everything I wrote was beliefs about how other people should live which I never actually put into practice myself. I went back and added a second part where I basically said not to listen to anything I say because I'm being a hypocrite and I'm actually not sure what to believe. I was incredibly embarrassed to read mine out loud to the class; I hadn't really done the assignment and instead probably sounded like an idiot with no convictions. Then the next boy to share after me said almost the exact same thing, talking about being in a constant state of uncertainty while being consumed by internal and external mixed messages. Interesting.
So lately, I've just been thinking about how we are all probably a lot more alike than we give ourselves credit for. Maybe the reason I think Susan doesn't like me is because she's shy too and thinks, since I never talk to her (since I'm worried she doesn't want to talk to me), that I don't like her. Maybe we all shouldn't be afraid of sharing what we are actually thinking or feeling, maybe we shouldn't always feel such pressure to pretend like we're confident and collected and we know everything, because other people might actually be feeling the same uncertainty that we are. And there might actually be some connection there. Just some food for thought. So this coming week, I'm going to just see what happens if I walk around assuming everyone else is just as worried and unsure as I am. I hope you'll join me, and maybe we can all find some common ground and learn how to be more confident together instead of just putting on a show.