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David McElroy

An Alien Sent to Observe the Human Race

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Nature made me like my mother, but my father tried to erase that

By David McElroy · September 27, 2020

I’ve spent my entire life at war with myself. It’s exhausting.

This isn’t a conflict most people recognize. I don’t blame them, though, because I lived with the conflict for decades without understanding this war within. My nature pushed me in one direction, but my childhood programming pushed me in another. Instead of choosing between them, I tried to have one foot on each side.

I wanted to be perfect. I tried to be competent, logical, driven, faultless, charming and well-adjusted. But something inside pushed me to be creative, brilliant, mercurial, iconoclastic and eccentric. I didn’t understand the natural tradeoffs of life.

When I was growing up, my father told me I was just like him. For a long time, I believed him. I tried to emulate him. Through constant self-discipline, I played the role he dictated for me. I loathed the part of myself that was more like my mother. I suppressed it. I denied it. I ignored it.

But I’ll never be what he wanted me to be. I know how to act that role. I can fake it. But on the inside, I’m the eccentric creative type struggling to get past the conventional mask I wear for the world.

I’m still trying to come to terms with the tradeoffs that come with being who I really am. It’s almost as though the ghosts of my dead parents are still fighting inside me — each trying to shape me in different ways.

I grew up with my father making fun of my mother behind her back. He was embarrassed that she could be a free spirit. He didn’t like it that she could have child-like fun when he expected stony-faced seriousness. And he belittled her desire to be create art as an amateur.

He never said any of these things to her, but his children heard them constantly. For some reason, I remember one story that he told many times, because he seemed sure that it proved that my mother was crazy.

He was transferred by his company to Knoxville, Tenn., in the summer after I finished first grade in Atlanta. When we went to look at the house we were going to rent, my mother was delighted with the huge back yard, so she excitedly took my very young sisters by the hands and ran with them out into the yard. She was running around with her squealing little girls, showing them how much fun it was going to be to live here.

In my father’s version of the story, she was a childish maniac running off — “skipping around the back yard,” as he put it — while a real estate agent was still showing features of the house. He wanted my mother to put on a serious face and listen to a discussion of the appliances or insulation or whatever else he was selling.

My mother didn’t care. She had already seen what she cared about — and she was far more concerned with living in the moment with her daughters.

How did it really happen? I was there, but my memory has been so clouded by his ridicule that it’s hard to be sure. I suspect Mother had heard all she cared about — and she was instinctively interested in showing her daughters how fun this new adventure could be.

Who was right? Does it matter? Most people would be more like my father. They would listen intently to whatever the agent was saying. They would have acted completely serious the whole time. They would have been socially “normal.”

But if I had a mother act that way with her daughters today at a house I showed them, I would be delighted. It would make me happy to see a loving mother and happy daughters getting to know the place I was showing them. I’d wait for them to have some fun and then get back to whatever we needed to talk about.

I understand now that there’s nothing wrong with my father’s way, but there’s also nothing wrong with my mother’s way. They’re just different. My father was eager to say that anything was wrong if it wasn’t his way, especially back in those days.

People who are too “normal” — who are more like my father in every way — aren’t as interesting to me. The people I tend to be most strongly drawn toward are extremists of one sort or another. People who have hidden “flaws” that most don’t even see. My father wanted us to be as much like his idea of “normal” as was possible. I tried for many years to be that person — but I’m not one of them.

I’m an eccentric. An iconoclast. A weirdo. Someone who listens to some internal voice and follows that call instead of emulating the norm.

Yes, I look like a conformist on the outside. It’s a useful package. It makes it easier to get along in the world. In the same way that my mother would put on a nice dress and go teach school when she needed to, I can put on my tie and go into the world looking like a conventional businessman.

But there are tradeoffs in what I am. I didn’t realize that for years. I finally accepted that there are tradeoffs for everybody, whether I like it or not.

If you happen to have a high IQ, you’re not like others on the inside, no matter how hard you want to be. (Depending on the test, I score between 155 and 165, but I’ve gotten to the point that I refuse to take IQ tests anymore.) If you happen to experience creative energy that pushes you to make things, you pay a price in being different from the norm in yet other ways, for good or bad. Whatever you are which is at one extreme, you give up something on the other end — and that is almost impossible to explain to people who are so much like the norm.

For me, depression has never been some chemical imbalance. Depression has always come from trying to be somebody I wasn’t. When I am able to live as I really am — with someone close to me who understands what I am — I feel exhilaration. When I’m having to live around people who don’t understand me and work at a “normal” job with normal people in a normal environment, I feel boxed in — and I become depressed.

I don’t think my mother was crazy. Not anymore. I think she was just an eccentric free spirit who didn’t want to be the sort of “normal” which my father insisted that she become. And I’m a lot like her.

I live a very conservative lifestyle, far more consecrative than most. I like it that way. But on the inside, I’m liberal and eccentric and wildly experimental — when it comes to ideas and emotions and new ways of looking at the world.

I’ve live all my life with this horrible war between these parts of myself. The conflict has almost destroyed me at times. But I’m trying to integrate the two parts — trying to become an emotionally healthy and balanced whole.

I’m grateful that I learned how to act my way through the normal world. That’s useful at times. You can drop me into a social or business setting and I can fake my way through whatever I need to get through. That came from my father.

But I’m also grateful for the Bohemian weirdo dreamer who’s inside. That’s what allows me to create. That’s what allows me to feel alive. That’s what allows me to know how to love and cherish those people and things which matter to me. That came from my mother.

I need to be able to live in “the real me” more often and more consistently. Not only is that when I’m the happiest, but it’s also when I’m the most loving — and it’s also when I am the most valuable in the economic sense.

When I move through the world — especially in business — I’ll continue to act the part of a conservative businessman most of the time. But don’t be surprised one of these days if I take the hand of my future child and go running through a back yard with joy and delight instead.

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Ever since a neighbor strung some decorative light Ever since a neighbor strung some decorative lights in his back yard a year or so ago, I’ve been trying to figure out how to photograph them. In person, the effect is stunning on the yard, but I’ve struggled to figure out any sort of perspective that would be interesting. I’m still not entirely happy with this, but it’s th best I’ve been able to come up with so far. #lights #backyard #birmingham #alabama
It’s 27 degrees in Birmingham after midnight, bu It’s 27 degrees in Birmingham after midnight, but the thick fog covering my neighborhood right now makes it feel magical enough to ignore the miserable cold for a few minutes. #nature #naturephotography #fog #trees #night #birmingham #alabama
As I was getting into the car after work just afte As I was getting into the car after work just after 5 p.m., I looked up and saw this beautiful full moon shining through the bare limbs of a nearby tree. #nature #naturephotography #tree #moon #birmingham #alabama
Here are the top nine photos I’ve posted on this Here are the top nine photos I’ve posted on this account in 2020, as determined by your “likes.” #topnine
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The moonlight is bright and widely diffused in the The moonlight is bright and widely diffused in the heavy fog in my neighborhood tonight. #moonlight #trees #night #birmingham #alabama
This was the Birmingham sunset just a few minutes This was the Birmingham sunset just a few minutes before 5 p.m. Wednesday. #nature #naturephotography #sky #colorful #clouds #sunset #birmingham #alabama
I just remembered a photo I took as I walked out o I just remembered a photo I took as I walked out of my front door at lunch to come back to the office. As you can see, we still have quite a few leaves on most of our trees. #nature #naturephotography #sky #tree #autumn #birmingham #alabama
As I was coming back from the bank just a moment a As I was coming back from the bank just a moment ago, I saw some lovely color along Shades Crest Road in the Bluff Park neighborhood. #nature #naturephotography #sky #colorful #clouds #sunset #birmingham #alabama
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It was five years ago tonight when Lucy first rode It was five years ago tonight when Lucy first rode in the car with me. She was on her way to her “forever home” with me, but she didn’t know that, so she was terrified that night. It was a much happier and braver girl who took a ride in the car tonight so we could go through a drive-through window and order a hamburger for her — to celebrate five years with me. She had a great time. If she could remember five years ago tonight, she would be proud of how far she’s come, too. #dog #dogs #dogstagram #dogsofinstagram #cute #cutedog #pets #petstagram #petsofinstagram #instadog #ilovedogs #birmingham #alabama
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Thomas poses for a new formal portrait in the wee Thomas poses for a new formal portrait in the wee hours of Sunday morning. #cat #cats #catstagram #catsofinstagram #cute #cutecat #pets #petstagram #petsofinstagram #tabby #tabbycat #instacat #ilovecats #birmingham #alabama
Late Saturday night, Lucy waits patiently for me t Late Saturday night, Lucy waits patiently for me to finally decide it’s time for her walk. She’s patient, but she never forgets to remind me. #dog #dogs #dogstagram #dogsofinstagram #cute #cutedog #pets #petstagram #petsofinstagram #instadog #ilovedogs #birmingham #alabama
Molly keeps a watchful eye on her human. If she’ Molly keeps a watchful eye on her human. If she’s not careful, she might accidentally purr if he sneaks up on her and forces her to get unwanted loving. And that’s intolerable to her. #cat #cats #catstagram #catsofinstagram #cute #cutecat #pets #petstagram #petsofinstagram #greeneyes #instacat #ilovecats #birmingham #alabama #caturdayeve
For “throwback Thursday,” here’s a shot of M For “throwback Thursday,” here’s a shot of Molly’s late sister, Bessie, who I lost almost three years ago. This was shortly after I brought Molly and Bessie in as kittens in about 2008. They looked pretty much identical as kittens and grew up to look like twins as well. #cats #tbt
Merlin is a benevolent ruler, but he never lets yo Merlin is a benevolent ruler, but he never lets you forget who is head of the royal household around here. #cat #cats #catstagram #catsofinstagram #cute #cutecat #pets #petstagram #petsofinstagram #merlin2024 #instacat #ilovecats #birmingham #alabama
Late Tuesday night, Thomas has everybody under obs Late Tuesday night, Thomas has everybody under observation. He’s a little feline spy with a license to kill. #cat #cats #catstagram #catsofinstagram #cute #cutecat #pets #petstagram #petsofinstagram #tabby #tabbycat #instacat #ilovecats #birmingham #alabama
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It was five years ago tonight when Lucy first rode in the car with me. She was on her way to her “forever home” with me that night, but she didn’t know it, so she was terrified. It was a much happier and braver girl who took a ride in the car tonight so we could go through a drive-through window and order a hamburger for her — to celebrate five years with me. She had a great time. If she could remember five years ago tonight, she would be proud of how far she’s come, too. If you’d like to know more about Lucy’s journey from scared dog to brave queen of the household, here’s something I wrote after her first year with me. I’m hoping this girl will have many more happy years with me.

I’ve never been attracted to skinny women. There’s nothing wrong with someone who’s naturally thin, but it’s never been my preference. What has shocked me, though, is the judgment I’ve heard from women all through my life — about themselves and others — about who’s “fat.” I concluded long ago that most women in our culture have been brainwashed to believe that skinny is attractive — and that anything other than skinny is ugly. I first assumed that I was the oddball — for preferring women with bigger and heavier bodies — but I’m coming to the conclusion that most men naturally feel this way to one extent or another. I just ran across new research by a couple of Northwestern University psychology professors that shows that women seriously overestimate how much a straight man will be attracted to a skinny woman. In a perfect world, we would all be at a healthy weight, but when it comes to attractiveness, too heavy is more attractive than skinny. At least to me — and to a lot of men, too.

Years ago, I heard a question that seemed very insightful at the time. You’ve probably heard it, too. What would you do if you knew you couldn’t fail? The question is intended to help you uncover things you really want to do, but which you’re afraid to try — for fear of failure. In an interview today, I heard the great marketing guru Seth Godin give a different point of view. He said the better question is to ask what you would do even if you knew it would fail. That struck me as far more insightful than the original version. We ought to be doing what we know is right, not what will maximize our success or praise from others. There are some battles that are worth fighting even if you believe you’re doomed to failure. Those battles are often for love or important ideas or our children. Some things are simply worth fighting for — and the truth is that you might win anyway. Do the right thing. Take the chance.

The more I understand about myself, about human nature and about the nature of reality, the more I realize I’m a radical by the standards of both Modernism and Postmodernism. Seeing the things which I’m stumbling toward makes me an enemy of many of the core ideas upon which contemporary culture is built. It exposes the culture as a monstrous lie — like a dangerous infection that’s slowly destroying what human were created to be. My “inner observer” has always known that truth was found in the ideas of the Enlightenment, but I’m slowly finding words to explain what has merely been instinct until now. The Enlightenment was humanity’s great leap forward, but shallow and arrogant thinkers for the next two centuries threw away the fruits of that achievement. We can’t go forward as a species until we go back to correct this intellectual and spiritual error — and part of that is acknowledging that our collective attempts to do away with our Creator will always fail.

I’ve come to believe that some of us — including me — aren’t very good at knowing how to be happy. I don’t mean that in the sense that happy talk and positive thinking should be able to make us happy regardless of the circumstances. I mean that some of us had so much experience with being unhappy when we were young that we were trained to be unhappy — and that being happy is an unconsciously uncomfortable thing. When I look at times in my past when I should have been happy, it rarely lasted. I believe now that I found reasons to be unhappy — and caused real problems for myself — because being comfortable and happy felt so foreign to my programming. If I’m right, this means that some of us have to do more than just change our circumstances. It means we have to learn how to accept the happiness that we unconsciously fear we don’t deserve.

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