Rebel Without A Pause

One of my favourite ironies (Stupidities?) from the 1950’s was the Hollywood cliché of ‘The Rebel’. The Outsider. The loner.
James Dean. Marlon Brando. (Later known as The Fonz.)
The Rebel was a guy who… (It was always guys back then.) … who refused to fit in and be like everyone else and dress like everyone else. The rebel wore black leather jacket. Like other Rebels. In fact, if you didn’t wear a black leather jacket… well, you weren’t a ‘Rebel’. Because all ‘Rebels’ show the world they are rugged individuals by dressing the exact same Rebel’s standard uniform, the black leather jacket, blue jeans and aviator glasses.
I can just picture a whole gang of them together, chanting, “I am different! I am not like everyone else!” They’re chanting it again and again, but eventually one or two notice they are all wearing the same thing… and they frown, then others notice… until there’s one Rebel left chanting, “I am different!” Eventually even he realizes he’s the only one chanting.
After a few seconds of awkward silence one of the Rebels chants, “I am different! Just like everyone else here!” And soon the rest of the Gang of Rebels join in.
When I was Commander Rick on the TV show “Prisoners of Gravity” I played the ultimate outsider–a character who was stuck in space, trapped aboard a communications satellite, and forced to hack into TV signals, able to communicate in short bursts with interesting people. (Boy, did that ever express the world of my Undiagnosed ADHD.)
And guess what Commander Rick wore?
Yup, a black leather jacket.
The Rebel who left earth behind, but got stuck in orbit. Like everyone he disdained he was a Prisoner of Gravity.
The point of this is that at some point in my teens, I decided I didn’t ever want to wear a suit. Especially a three piece suit. No way!
Why not?
I think about it now, and it was because of what the three piece suit meant. Uniformity. Fitting in. Being part of something big.
And I knew I didn’t fit in.
The suit was a uniform, visible proof of allegiance with people who were, in my mind, boring, average, like everyone else…
Normal.
And I was quite clear that I wasn’t like everyone else.
Abnormal.
I didn’t mind, mostly. But it was lonely.
In my mind I was… weird. A goof. Etc.
A suit meant office work. At a desk. (Funny, I know sit at a desk and make a living at typing.)
And offices and desks were clearly about routines, structures, flow charts, procedures, endless columns of numbers and reports with words like, “Furthermore” and “Abeyance” and “Pending.”
I was never going to wear a suit because to me it was not a match for who I was and how my mind worked.
I saw a suit as limiting, giving up freedom and choice, even suffocating my self expression.
So I vowed never to wear a suit.
Until I had to attend funerals. And weddings. Including my own. (Wedding, not funeral)
So I altered my vow. I would never to wear a suit at work!
Can you see where I’m going here?
To ensure I had freedom and choice I cut myself off from the freedom to wear a suit if I wanted to.
And it turns out that I look good in a suit. At least, my wife thinks I do, and if she finds it attractive… that’s a good thing.
I have to admit, when I’m wearing one, which is not often, it really doesn’t feel ‘uncomfortable’ or suffocating. (Except the tie. I always have the top shirt button undone and the tie loose.)
But really, other than my beliefs about the suit, there’s no reason not to wear one. (Okay, there’s one issue. I am a really messy eater and dry cleaning a suit costs more than washing a shirt.)
If this were all just about suits, it would be no big whoop.
But my decision to never wear a suit, and at the same time laughing at the identically clad “Rebel’s Without A Cause” shows how blind we can be to our own decisions and how we can justify them.
But it also shows how our early beliefs that have come out of our struggles with our ADHD, the ‘not-fitting-in’ and not being able to do things most people find easy, has us cut ourselves off from a great deal of life. From a nice suit to pursuing our dreams.
As you go forward in working through your ADHD and mastering it, just start to notice your old beliefs about who you are and what you are capable of doing. Or of not doing.
The stuff you’ve given up on.
“After all, at some point I had to accept who I am.”
Some of who you think you are may have simply been a reaction to your undiagnosed ADHD. As in, “Been there, done that.” Or “Been there. Tried to do that. Screwed up. Ain’t gonna try again.”
Hell, maybe I only think I’m a messy eater.
But then how do I account for that time I ended up with mashed potatoes in my eyebrow.