Ba Ba Black Sheep, have you any wool?
We all know the nursery rhyme, with yes sir, yes sir; three bags full. It’s a little song, or jig rather, sung by children for over two centuries.
But what is the significance of the bags of wool, with that from a black sheep? And what does the wool being black actually have to do with what I am writing today?
First and foremost, I’ll go ahead and state this post is not political – but rather it focuses on the “black sheep” as a metaphor for everything I am going through and dealing with at this moment. It’s my personal struggle, and I hope you see into my story with open eyes and clear mind for what is troubling me – not just in this moment but what I have been dealing with my entire life. This is also no qualms agains my friends, my family or anyone close to me – it is literally just how my situation pans out; and how I in turn don’t help. (We working intensively on it though, don’t worry.)
In 2010 I had a conversation with my English-Lit teacher. Mrs. Roland was very intuitive and knew something was bothering me. Today, I’m not quite sure what it was that made me upset, or who had even said anything. My senior year was definitely one of trials and I put up with a lot going on during this time frame. She had pulled me aside after class to talk.
In that conversation I remember voicing something I had never said out loud before; “I’m a black sheep.” I remember her looking at me inquisitively, her head cocked to the side, eyes slanted as she studied me. “Ok…” she had responded, “And what is so wrong with that?” What wasn’t wrong with that? “I don’t fit in – like, anywhere. I’m not really one who has a ‘crowd’ and what friends I did have don’t really want me as a friend anymore.” She sat her pen down on the desk and sighed. “Listen,” she started, “being different doesn’t mean you’re an outcast. You can be whatever you want, with no restrictions or others holding you back. If you’re a black sheep, then be a black sheep; but never just be a sheep.” That stuck with me for a long time.
As the years past, being the black sheep was something I just dealt with on my own time – which proved to be unhealthy and absolutely not the right direction. I have lost people dear to me and I have done terrible things from believing I was to set a part.
With my family, there is a joke that I am the last person to find out about anything – which actually isn’t a joke. I literally am the last to find out anything. “LOL – nobody tells me anything.” And it’s true. I am the last to find out about family gatherings, weddings, deaths, parties etc – and for years I’ve blamed this on being the “black sheep”. Which, is only partially true. I know it’s because I am busy. Even in high school I was constantly doing things – from modeling to acting to trying to grow a Career LONG before I even had a life in the real world. The truth is that people forget to talk to busy people. And my life started when I was in 5th grade with 4-H and theatre. No one checks in on the kid because the kid has parents… but what happens when that kid grows up? A cycle, is what. I grew up not being checked up on… so no one held me accountable for checking in vice versa. It often feels like the only time anyone contacts me is because I have those three bags of wool still sitting around. And I mean, that’s ok. I’m guilty of only calling because I need a pair of shears…
This has provided to be a pitfall of my personal development. Some where along the lines I became “Unimportant” the “black sheep” of the family. The one who was so different and out there that people forgot to check in – and in turn taught me I didn’t have to either.
It sounds so stupid because this LITERALLY is such an easy lesson of life to learn – yet here I am, still struggling with it. And I am not blaming my family, it was definitely a two way street here – and to this day, even my husband’s side of the family does it and at this point I more believe it’s a curse or a glitch in the matrix. (Jk it’s just me)
But as I have grown, I learned this lesson the hard way – that I don’t check in. In fact, y’all I’ll be real with you – I check out before I check in. Checking in gives me terrible anxiety. I assume (and I’m WORNG – it’s not true but depression and anxiety are mental health issues and you try telling this to my brain at 4 am when I’m stressed) that the reason people don’t tell you things is because you’re not as important to know. You’re not really the one that matters. You come last.
So I check out. I don’t communicate because I assume you don’t need me. It doesn’t matter how many times you tell me I do – I will still think I’m unimportant in your life. And if I am stressed, I don’t need to burden you with my issues. My problems come last to what you need and I have going on.
In 2017 I experienced the blunt force of the repercussions of “checking out”. I was going through a lot. I saw myself as a black sheep, so I internalized a ton of issues and problems. I started seeing the complications with in one of my friend groups; I found myself checking out – distancing myself from issues I thought I could handle alone or found nonsubstantial to everyone else – and I became the black sheep. I was only important when someone needed a bag of wool.
With the black sheep, I can not be controlled. I can be manipulated, but not controlled, which is one good thing I did take away from what was happening around me. Someone was manipulating the group to feel things towards different people. I didn’t see it until years later – but the reason I was so outcasted was that I couldn’t be controlled with in that group. “Just don’t be a sheep.” I stood firm and thought for myself, despite all the drama happening – but I wasn’t prepared when the drama came to me. I was blindsided by the distrust the group had from “keeping secrets” from everyone. Honestly, that wasn’t it at all. I was never trying to hurt anyone; I just felt like my problems were so small to everyone else that I only chose to talk to one other person – who happened to be talking to everyone. So whatever was happening with me just made it look like I was hiding something. No – just didn’t think I was important enough.
I learned a lot from that. One, not to trust people. My trust was shattered from that. I didn’t have real friends for a whole year because I thought I was such a terrible friend and person and didn’t know how to trust people. And two – learn to communicate better.
Where my trusting has definitely improved, my communication? It still sucks. I’m still learning. I’m still trying. I’m still attempting to get this right. Do this right. Text more often, call every now and then, update here and there… and where with friends I’m better… I’m still very bad with family. I don’t call anyone – ever. I can’t even begin to tell you the type of anxiety I have from talking on the phone – even talking to my Realitor stresses me out to no end. I hate talking on the phone.
And I am not saying that my family leaving me out of things is completely their fault – because honestly it’s not all on them. I am a champion of avoiding conversations and I would rather eat a jar of picked onions than talk about politics or difficult subjects with my family. I avoid calling because I’m so scared of any and everything people say. I hate confrontation, so I do everything I can to avoid it. But the longer I wait to call too, the bigger the anxiety about everything comes into play. I don’t call because I have anxiety about calling and also people being mad because I don’t check in – but also I’m busy and also they’re busy and honestly it’s just a cycle so I don’t call. And lord knows if you don’t answer my text or call me I assume you hate me. For no reason. So. Cycles.
I’m not saying it’s an excuse, because it’s not. I should get better – we should all get better. But this is something about myself that isn’t going to just disappear and change over night. It’s not going to go away just on its own.
If you have someone you know doesn’t check in, please know it’s not because you’re not a priority to them… it’s because they don’t know how to check in with you. The simplest “Hey” can literally give them such horrible anxiety they might even cry or throw up before sending it… might or might not be from personal experience here, IDK.
Phones are two way streets. If you know that you have a friend like me, please try to understand it’s not because they don’t care. And the more you check up on them allows them the opportunity to to talk with you. Understand they love you – just checking in every day isn’t an option. Being busy keeps their mind occupied and when they have a chance to text, the pure dread of being the first to text is literally sickening.
Be kind to your black sheep friends. We’re out here. We’re different. We still have your three bags full and waiting for you to pick them up. We don’t mind – as long as we both know and understand the playing field we’re both on.
So to all my black sheep friends out there – it’s ok. We’re gonna get through this. Never stop working on yourself. Keep growing; you got this.
Life of an Everyday Princess 