Going My Own Way
An Introduction
My eighth-grade year of secondary education marked an important point of divergence in my life’s path. The year before, I had participated in football, basketball, and track and field not because I particularly enjoyed these sports, but because extracurricular athletics were the norm at Sentral Community School in rural northern Iowa. I went out for sports because that’s what kids my age did. Seventh grade in particular meant admittance to a world of organized athletics—school-sponsored events of adolescent competition and juvenile one-upmanship. It was a glitzy place, where the high-achievers were worshiped as heroes and even the dubiously skilled benchwarmers were given honorary reverence. The community thrived on the prestige of its school’s athletic programs, and I knew of few (if any) individuals who had received such respect in other extracurricular pursuits. And so, at the age of twelve, I stepped into a world of conformity that from the very beginning never felt like home.
Make no mistake, youth sports have their place, teaching countless children the importance of teamwork, self-improvement, and perseverance; but for me, they never really fit. And that’s the important point. I worry about the overbearing weight of peer pressure on today’s youth—regardless of its sphere of influence—especially now that it extends beyond the physical world and into the virtual. I’m sure children (and humanity at large, really) have faced the dictates of conformity for generations, but I doubt we’ve ever been as image-conscious as we are today. Our personas extend to Facebook, Twitter, and numerous other social media and internet forums, each carrying their own social strata and grouped into exclusive cliques and opaque factions. Parents undoubtedly face challenges in both setting the rules for their children’s internet access and in policing them. But when it comes to issues like peer pressure and conformity in the online realm, perhaps mom and dad should apply the same antidote given to their real-world counterparts. Instead of trying to authoritatively control the direction of our children’s lives (to return to my sports example, how often do we see parents trying to relive their has-been days of athletic glory through their children?), we ought to take a different course: teach children to be comfortable in their own skin.
That was the important lesson I learned during my final year of middle school: to let my own voice be heard alongside conformity’s overblown holler. I learned (thanks to some incredibly supportive, understanding, and loving parents, no doubt) that it was okay to go against the grain and do what you really want, because even if it is the unpopular choice, you’ll be happier in the long run. I came to the conclusion that organized athletics weren't for me and decided not to go out for them the following season. It was a rocky go at first, with numerous friends, family, and coaches asking, “why aren’t you going out for football this year?” and “you’re not going to do track this year either?” and “you’re really not going to play basketball this year? The team could really use you.” The pressure was overwhelming, but I learned to stick to my guns. Soon I was part of a new group—the eighth-period study hallers—and though I felt a perceptible hit to my popularity, I soon grew comfortable with my new schedule and persona. “This is me,” I thought, “I’m living my life.”
It’s this self-actualized affirmation that conformity robs from us. When we surrender our true desires to social norms and groupthink, we lose a part of ourselves and miss out on true happiness and fulfillment. Don’t get me wrong, some conformity is a necessary and important part of a healthy society. We should not throw caution to the wind, listening only to ourselves and paying no attention to social norms or the well-being of others. As with everything in life, it’s important to find the right balance between what we want to do, what we can do, and what we should do. But when we find that balance, it’s amazing what can happen.
After my withdrawal from organized athletics, I began filling my time with many other pursuits. I picked up a guitar my freshman year of high school and got into recording and production not long after that. I started a wedding videography business the following summer and soon began a job as a video editor for a local business, helping them move a costly and time-consuming video department in-house. And as time went on, I began to realize that the popularity hit I thought I had suffered my eighth-grade year never really occurred. In fact, an even more bizarre thing happened: people started respecting and admiring me for the person I had become.
Over the course of my twenty-seven year life, I’ve come to realize time and again that I am one incredibly lucky and blessed individual. I know that going against the grain and doing your own thing does not guarantee popularity or success. I know that for many people, carving a unique path in life is an arduous and seemingly impossible endeavor. Why things have gone so well for me, I do not know. But I am utterly grateful for all that I’ve been blessed with on this most enjoyable journey.
On October 5, 2007, standing next to three of my classmates as the only one not adorned with a football jersey, I was awarded the honor of being Sentral’s Homecoming King. For me, it was the perfect affirmation that I had made the right decision some four years earlier. Anecdotal as it may be, the football I was handed that night stands as an ironic reminder that it’s okay to follow your heart and do your own thing. And ever since then, I’ve been comfortably different, blissfully unconcerned with what’s “normal” when I’d rather do something else.
Just as I cannot know exactly what my future holds, I’m not entirely sure what writing will follow me. But I hope that in every anecdote and every story, there will exist the essence of me, going my own way.
This is an excerpt from my book, Going My Own Way. For more information or to purchase a copy, visit the product page.