Rules Were Made to Break

For as long as I can remember I’ve been an outcast. Ignored, set aside, overlooked. Called out for every little thing despite doing my best to fit in.

I don’t know when I realized that I didn’t get the same rulebook as everyone else. Maybe as early as 7 or 8 years old? Maybe it was in middle school, when I was told I was weird for giving hugs to friends? Maybe it was further back than that, as a small child perfectly happy to play all alone because there was no one there to be my friend.

I prefer the loneliness, to be honest. Loneliness is a constant. It doesn’t randomly turn on you for no reason, offering no explanation why it is suddenly hostile.

It doesn’t misinterpret your words, seemingly deliberately. I always say what I mean; there isn’t any context intended in my words. And yet somehow, I always end up the one at fault. The one who says everything “wrong”.

Loneliness doesn’t judge you for every little thing you do “differently”. Why do I have to do things this exact way, when there’s no logical reason for the actions? If the actions cause inefficiency and I see a better way to perform the task, why is it “wrong” of me to be more productive? Isn’t that what you require of me? Isn’t my sole purpose to fit in, to be helpful when needed and invisible when I’m not?

Mostly, the “Rules” everyone seems to follow seem proprietary and only helpful to a select few.

Those already in positions of power or authority benefit the most, of course. By following the Rules, we assure them that they are firmly in their seats of oppression over us. We follow all of their Rules, ensuring that they remain in their lofty kingdoms while we toil and stress and break against the rocks of life.

Next in line to benefit are the favored minions. This can be fickle, though, depending on their benefactor. The powerful are ever jealous of their power, always craving more and fearful that anyone below them is trying to steal what they have (hint: they are). So the favored often become unfavored, and their fortunes quickly plummet. But still so many strive to reach these ranks, because of the “benefit” of getting to the best scraps first.

Then come many layers of hangers on, each more desperate than the last to glean every morsel of fame from the dwindling scraps they are left. I would call them vultures, but it would do those majestic birds a disservice. At least vultures are necessary to the ecosystem; these sycophants are naught more than leeches and ticks, attempting to become bloated on the blood of those above them.

Finally there are the “normal” people. Those who live their everyday lives toiling to get by, make it work, live whatever dream life they can. Many will make something of themselves. It might not be what they imagined when they were young. It might be far removed from any idea they had of what “living” was. But they live, thrive, survive.

…And then there are the bottom feeders. Those barely hanging on, clinging to any last hope they have that they can continue. That they will somehow, someday, have a glimmer of life or hope.

Many of these simply need a hand up. Many of them have given up or chosen to remove themselves from the struggle. But there are others who never had a choice. Whose glimmer of hope was stolen at such an early age, they can’t imagine what was so heinous about their very self that society rejected them. Even the other bottom feeders avoid them, sensing some kind of “otherness”.

I, unfortunately, am both one of those and also a step above. Half reject, half hopeful of a life.

I never received my copy of the Rules. Therefore, I am deemed a heretic, an outcast, something to be scorned and rejected. I don’t know where my copy went, or why my parents couldn’t teach me the Rules. I thought I had learned them well enough. I certainly seemed to in school. But life was simpler then.

Every action, every breath, hell, almost every thought was dictated to us in school. Look at this, learn that. Raise your hand to be heard. Keep up with the class or you’ll need remedial lessons. Act this certain way or there will be consequences.

Every action had a consequence. Each interaction was largely scripted for me, easy to pick up and follow. I never noticed that I lacked an understanding of any Rules, because everyone else was forced to interact in the exact same ways.

It became more apparent as I grew older. Puberty hit; the Rules changed. But I was largely unaware of those changes, because I had been taught to ignore those changes. They weren’t for me to know or understand. They weren’t to talk about; they were dirty, secret, something I would just “know” once I was an adult.

And so I began to show that I never understood the Rules. That the Rules were something that I couldn’t adhere to, because they were based on logic and knowledge that I just didn’t possess.

High school was both heaven and hell. Heaven, because I was finally one of many. Removed from the small, close knit classes and people I had known since childhood. Hell, because of all of the new unspoken Rules I was constantly breaking.

I became a shell, interacting only when needed. Feeling pushed and forced to interact “normally” with everyone else, when they didn’t bother trying to get to know me or my reasons why I removed myself from the flow. Overwhelmed by all of the new inputs, now that I finally understood the “forbidden” of my own body, my own wants, my own needs.

And feeling cast aside and rejected by everyone, because I was just too “weird”, despite hanging out on the fringes. Why were some accepted or tolerated for their weirdness while I was still ignored and ridiculed?

Young adulthood, finally getting a sense of freedom. Realizing it sucks just as much as being a “kid”; that people still treat you as a freak if you don’t do certain “somethings” for them all the time. Having to relearn all of the scripts and coping mechanisms that got me through high school.

I tried. I worked retail and food service, trying to connect with people. But somehow, the Rules changed again. I was still always a step behind, or to the side. Somewhere I shouldn’t be socially. I can hold a job, I have high function; hell, I have a damn college degree - why is it so hard to fit in? To find anyone I can connect with anymore?

Suddenly, light and hope. An old dream, come to life. An old flame rekindled. A feeling, finally, of belonging and love.

Things were rocky, I’m not gonna lie. Still are, to be honest. He came with a lot of baggage (don’t we all…). He is hard headed and stubborn, prone to brooding and lashing out in anger. Never physically, but more like a volcano that suddenly shoots its top.

We’ve weathered many storms together, ignoring the Rules or working within them as well as we need to. Together, breaking the Rules is easier. Together, we don’t have to worry about following those Rules. Until they pop up suddenly, in behaviors and silences.

It wasn’t so bad until our daughter was born. The brightest light, conceived before the darkest period we have survived so far. An evershining hope that brought us through fear and confusion, during a time of plague and disconnect.

She is perfect, in all of her fractured, colorful glory. But she shines a light on the cracks and fissures we have hidden from ourselves, from each other over the years. Her light sparkles and prisms amongst those broken edges, turning them into points of contention and points of understanding.

Heavy demands from work, from life, pile and pile. The Rules are spinning, spinning out of control. Never stopping, always evolving. Guided by hands that say they are “helping”, telling us that they will “fix” all of the miscommunication and misunderstanding. And yet, the lack of understanding grows. The lack of relevance, of logic behind interactions yawns like a new, gaping sinkhole where once there was solid ground.

Don’t do this, now. Don’t say this to these people (who you can’t tell from anyone else just be looking at). Don’t hold yourself this way. Don’t stand that way. Why are you wearing those colors? Don’t you know they mean [insert toxic trait]?

Never ending bombardment of all the reasons I’m wrong, I’m different, I’m a nuisance.

I don’t understand these Rules. I don’t like them; they seem to favor everyone but me, and those like me.

And yet I am told that these rules are there for everyone’s betterment. That they will make everything more clear, more understandable. Where is my FAQ for how they work, then? Why can’t I sign up for a training or remedial class on how to follow the Rules? Where is the breakdown report of what about me is so incorrect, so I can work on improving myself?

I deny your Rules. I spit on your “logic”, your presumptuousness. Yes, you gasp and scream; scoff at my “naivety”. “You don’t know the world, girl; you don’t understand what you are fighting,” you say. I do. Better than you will ever understand.

I am fighting the idea that I need to conform to your Rules as they are written. I am fighting the intrinsic lessening of my value, simply based on my lack of adherence to your stupid Rules. Which, by the way, make zero sense (even to you, since you can’t explain the bloody things). I refuse to believe that I am nothing simply because I don’t perform for your scraps of affection, of “appreciation”.

I, too, am a human. I, too, have a heart, and a mind, and a soul. I have feelings and thoughts just like you do, that direct me in what is right and wrong. I don’t need some arbitrary, contrary Rules to tell me how to live justly and rightly.

Breaking the chains of the Rules is difficult, even when you have lived outside of them your whole life. They are insidious; they infect every thought, every desire. They insist on impossible standards. On strange, esoteric sacrifices of time and sanity before you are “worthy” to succeed at your goals.

But I will persevere. I will succeed. The alternative is a fate worse than death. Death is an ending, A final release of will to the great unknown.

To continue following the Rules, when you know how hollow they are, you are giving up your freedom for a false sense of security. Of togetherness and “community”. Of a sense of “we are all in this together and we can succeed, if we follow them”. But make no mistake - that is a lie.

The Rules were never made for you or I. They were made for those at the very top. As I said in the beginning; those in power or authority are jealous, wrathful “gods”. They tear down and break any who dare attempt to usurp or undermine their power. They dole out false promises like candy hoping to drug and placate their sycophants, all while draining those minions. Then they target the next tier, the next, until they are further bearing down and repressing those at the bottom. The bottom feeders. And the exiles.

We are always here. We always have been, lurking and hiding and pushed to the fringes. Ignored, overlooked, unseen. We are the protectors of true freedom and creativity. We’ve never followed the Rules.

They weren’t made for us.