Excluded from the narrative no more
When we moved to our current home almost 4 years ago, one of the things I was really excited about was starting fresh. As a recovering people pleaser, the thought of moving to a town where nobody knew and disliked me was very appealing. Even though I wouldn't characterize myself as someone who has enemies (too dramatic), I have collected my share of people who I've fallen out with over time. It's an unavoidable fact in human relationships, but one I still struggle with.
In my perfect utopia, I'd have everyone get along and accept each other, despite their differences. And even though I know that this is utterly impossible, I still secretly hoped that we would be the exception to the rule and be the people everyone gets along with.
Well, we aren't. Since we've been living here we have made friends, forged allegiances, and also, mostly inadvertently, made some enemies.
I don't know how "normal" people deal with it. Maybe they are fine with it and can shrug it off as one of life's unavoidable side effects? Maybe they even get some pleasure out of the drama of actively disliking someone in their life? Or maybe they don't like it, but still move ahead with the business of living? I honestly don't know.
For me, accepting the fact that there will always be people who hate you just because you don't fit their idea of what's acceptable is hard. Which, after I just wrote it down and read back is what it must be like for black people or people of colour - wow. Just had a major moment of understanding. Shit!
My husband and I are white, cisgender, and heterosexual, so we don't deal with hate right off the bat. Sure, we have that big age gap, but even that isn't that obvious at first glance thanks to my husband's enviable youthful skin and (sometimes exasperating) immature behaviour.
But we are different in other ways. Our biggest mistake was moving into a neighbourhood that, despite being made up of acreages (the minimum being 10 acres, the maximum several 100), has the mindset of the suburbs.
We want to live wild and free, on the ranch we've always dreamed of, which isn't a far-out dream since we live in a small cowboy town in prime ranch country with ranches all over the place.
However, our particular neighbourhood's ideal is that of being a quiet,manicured area where everybody keeps their yard tidy, has 1.5 horses grazing prettily on the front lawn, and keeps in line with the colour scheme and fencing style favoured by the neighbours.
We don't fit. We have more animals than all the neighbours put together. We welcome stray cows and horses that roam through the neighbourhood and refuse to sign petitions to have them shipped off (or killed).
These are the people who show fake-concern to the well-being of animals while wasting not a moment's thought to why ranchers need to let their cattle roam. (This is dry country and they need a large area to graze in order to get enough food.) They are eager to get them off the crown land adjacent to their properties just to preserve their lawns, no matter at what cost.
We keep our weeds because they feed birds, bees and butterflies, provide shade and hiding places for the chickens and cats, and because we like them. They are green and pretty, and I'd much rather look at plants than brown earth. The patches of green you see in the photo below? I don't know what they are, but we've had more than one person comment that we should spray them to "get rid of the weeds".
We won't. The dogs love lying on them because they are soft and cool. The chickens enjoy picking at them.
And I love seeing the green take over the grey of the gravel. Why in the world would I ever want to kill a living thing that's so useful?
I love everything wild and natural.
That's one side of the coin. I love where we live because of the natural beauty, the climate, the wonder of having deer graze in your yard, or have half-wild horses roaming past our place; the kindness of the locals (the vast majority of people here is lovely). We love this town and this little slice of the world.
The other side of the coin is this: neighbours that decided they didn't like us as soon as they realized that we wouldn't conform to their way of thinking. They gave us a few pointed phone calls and emails in the first few months, and my husband basically told them "thanks, but no thanks. We gonna do our thing."
Ever since there's been an ongoing battle. It got ugly; authorities were involved. (Who confirmed that we are not doing anything wrong.)
I dislike conflict. I hate confrontations. So, in the beginning, I was keen to find compromises. But it soon became clear that they would never be happy with a middle ground. Meeting us halfway wasn't what they wanted. They wanted us to be like them. To give up our animals, our bohemian ways, and our lacksadaisy attitude.
But you know what? Even if we would have, they would never be satisfied. Once you're singled out as the enemy, no matter what you do, they will always find fault with you.
I had to make a choice. And I hated it. For the longest time I was like an ostrich, simply sticking my head into the sand and hoping that the conflict would go away.
It didn't.
It finally dawned on me: the conflict-free, we-all-live-in-harmony fantasy-world I had been hoping for was just that: a fantasy. That version of the world only existed in Disney movies.
It was time to grow up.
Would I hide forever behind a fantasy world that didn't exist?
Hide from people just because they don't approve of me?
Wish for an alternative reality where everybody got along and loved each other?
I tried that. It didn't exist.
A couple of nights ago my husband finally told me about another episode that happened in the ongoing war with the neighbourhood. It happened 4 weeks ago, but he didn't feel like he could share it with me because of my fucked up mental health. (I was going through another rough patch.)
I felt horrible. He had been carrying this burden around with him alone for all this time, because I was still trying to pretend we could all be friends.
I finally made a choice. I never asked for a fight; I was 100% like Taylor Swift who "would very much like to be excluded from this narrative". But just like her, I wasn't. Because we can't always back down from a fight, no matter how much we would like to.
So now? It's ON. I'm no longer backing down. I'm no longer playing nice. I've been hiding the truth, swallowing my pain and hurt, feeling guilty simply for us being us.
NO MORE.
I'm done making excuses. We aren't hurting anyone.
I'm finally standing up for myself, my husband, and our lifestyle.
Like it or not; we are here to stay.
You better get used to it.
From now on, I'm 100% part of the narrative.
If you find this letter useful, feel free to forward it to someone else who might enjoy it.
Vol. 70