Last and Least

letting go of a broken tape

When I was a kid my sisters made me sit on the hump in the back seat because I was the smallest. Whenever we moved to a new house, I got the default room because I was the youngest. Most of the time, my mother seemed irritated by me.

At least, that is how I felt.

Gradually I developed the impression that I wasn’t as important as others. I carried it with me to school like a battered book, where I hid in the back of the room.

Instead of interacting with anyone, I scribbled poems in my notebook. Sad, depressing poems.

I assumed none of the girls would want to talk to me, and I was right. I was ostracized and targeted by bullies.

I’ve always thought other kids mocked me because I was weak. But I wonder if it was something else.

I wonder if it was because I was last.

I’m watching a series now about someone who was first, JFK Jr. I remember when he was everywhere in the 90s—the heir to the Kennedy legacy, the most eligible bachelor, the sexiest man alive.

JFK Jr. grew up experiencing others’ praise and deference. If anything, people expected too much from him. In some ways, it was likely a huge burden to carry.

Would he ever be as good as his father was?

Thinking about it now, a question pops into my mind. Which is more difficult? The expectation to be great or the assumption that you’re mediocre?

There is a Seinfeld episode about George and Jerry trading places. George Costanza was the perennial loser of the show—a short, balding guy who was frequently out of work and lived with his parents.

George was the opposite of a chick magnet. Meanwhile, Jerry coasted by on his charm and humor, things easily sliding into place for him.

One day, there is an inexplicable switch, and suddenly women are falling all over George while Jerry is ignored. Everywhere George goes, people praise and reward him.

Not surprisingly, he basks in the attention, and Jerry is stunned, wondering how he became the one people look past.

It was just a TV show but it helped me understand what an impact a simple shift in self-perception—the discarding of one belief and the acceptance of another—can have on a person’s life.

Instead of all doors being closed, they are swinging wide open.

If only it were easy to make this change, to have your mind erase the script that’s run your whole life—the one that says you aren’t any good and don’t matter.

And to have it instantly replaced with one that says you are good enough and you do matter. How might accepting that thought change your life?

I’ve tried to do it, but it’s like I’m trying to force it into place. I’m shoving the wrong charger into my phone, and it just doesn’t fit.

Maybe one day it will. Even if it’s fleeting, I’ll know what it feels like to be off the hump.

No longer in the backseat, but riding shotgun.