I can’t help noticing that people often say this, or something similar, to me whenever I complain about something. Are they trying to tell me facts they think I haven’t figured out yet? I believe it’s because they just don’t care to hear my opinion.
In a way, my upbringing was a part of the reason for my objections to stupid situations. Mom often told us not to do foolish things like stand out in the rain, crawl under railroad cars, and accept rides from strangers. She likewise reminded us to dress warm for the winter weather. When I was sent to Jericho Hill School, I objected to supervisors making us wait in the rain. Likewise, the planners of that school didn’t think of our comfort when we had to trek to the dining hall and back three times a day in all sorts of weather. The junior kids’ dorms were connected to the classrooms by a hallway but the rickety old dining hall was about a block away.
As a child and an adult, I often encountered double standards. From my brother Roy getting away with bad behaviour because he was labeled as retarded to supervisors at work cutting their pets a break while watching me closely, I often came out the loser. If supervisors made any accommodations for me, I would be continually reminded of the magnanimous privilege they granted me.
Church was much the same way. There was only one incident when I was held up as a good example. When I knew more about Moses leading the Israelites out of Egypt than the sighted Sunday school students, the teacher praised me. Since I’ve blogged quite a few times about the chiding I received from a house church minister and his self-appointed sheep dog, I won’t list those incidents here.
Though it might sound selfish, I love living on my own. Dwelling with others means that the bathroom might be busy when I need it desperately. The chair I like to sit on might be occupied by somebody living with me. I wouldn’t be able to eat what I wanted and when I wanted to if I had to always consider another person’s desires. Most importantly, I wouldn’t have to hear that phrase that angers me like none other. “You can’t have everything your way, you know.”
I’ve written about my love of solitude and the problems living with others caused me in all three of my books. The first two are available through the Bruce Atchison’s Books site. How I Was Razed: A Journey from Cultism to Christianity is distributed by Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and Virtual Bookworm Publishers.