I'm Different

I'm not the same man I was...

I'm trying to remember how long it’s been since I’ve worn a polo every day of the week. And I’ve decided that this is the first time, in a long-long time. It’s been years.

There seems to be a lot of that lately, and now I’m lost in contemplation of how different—how upside down my life has become in the past handful of years.

I wore a collared shirt everyday for decades—business casual. It was my uniform, but I’ve avoided them like covid for the past six or seven years.

I have a canvas-military-duffel full of “nice” clothes that still fit me—but I’ve only worn a handful of them since I packed them away. I used to have so much stuff—too much stuff. Heck if I stay this size, which appears possible, if not probable, I won’t ever need to buy another shirt.

I also wore the same haircut from age 17, until I was 39. I held the same beliefs—whether I actually believed them or not. And I was consumed by consumer culture. I spent all of my time, either at work, the golf course, or the bar. I had all the toys, drove a BMW X3M, and was a member of the most prestigious clubs. That, and I was terribly unhappy.

“I’m different now. I’m not the same man I was just a few years ago.”

I’ve said it so many times over the past few years that I’d even begun to believe it. But I’m not a different man, I just have a different perspective. Losing everything—or so I thought at the time—will do that to you.

I’m not a different me, I’ve always been this person somewhere deep within. Maybe I was him when I was a child, and life taught me to hide him behind the curtain. I’m sure there were glimpses, I bet this is the man my wife married—and I am forever grateful to her for waiting on him to reappear on stage.

I didn’t realize this until recently. It was an old friend and mentor who said it.

I worked with Carla at one of my first jobs, back when I was in high school—and we’d run into one another at times over the next 30 years. Ms Carla watched me and my family grow from a distance during that time, and was a loyal customer when I owned the store. When I ran into Carla back in March, I hadn’t seen her since the store closed.

I’m not often recognized when I’m in my home town anymore—I wear my hair differently now. I dress differently, I carry myself differently. I’m quieter too—but Carla recognized me.

I was in a local auto parts store looking for an item, when I felt a tap on my shoulder—it was Carla! She hugged me and asked me how I was doing. My downfall is no secret in my hometown, and when I smiled and said great, I could see the happiness within her bloom.

When I told her that I was a writer—she immediately asked me what I was writing, and subscribed to my blog on the spot. Now four months later, she is still my only paid subscriber.

Here’s a special offer if you’re considering joining her😉Ms Carla you’ll always be my first!

Yes I want to be paid for my writing, and the validation that someone thinks that it’s worth spending their hard-earned $ on is very gratifying—but that’s not why I do it. I write to let my soul shine—writing is my light, and my purpose is to share that light with others.

The comment Carla made after reading one of my essays means more to me than any number of paid subscribers. That comment touched me in a way that I had no idea I needed.

Carla said, “Michael I can picture you in this blog. The nice guy you have always been.”

I was floored by that simple comment. “The nice guy you have always been.” 🤯 But wait, I’ve told myself for the past few years that I’d been a monster before this new, this different me.

It wasn’t until that moment, that I realized that I’m not different—I’ve been Me all along.

Sure, I look different. I talk differently—even though I sound the same😁 I carry myself differently. My goals and ambitions are different—what’s important to me is different. And more than likely, I’m not what you’d expect in a Southerner. Maybe I am different than most—but I didn’t change—I’m not a different Me.

And Carla, via Substack, helped me realize that. I write because I want to be a light to others. But so often it turns out the other way—I’m the one who ends up learning, I’m the one who’s uplifted.

So yes, if you’re just looking at surface level it might seem as though I’m different—and in many ways I am. But I’m the same Michael that I’ve always been. I’m just no longer wearing the shackles of ignorance and fear that come with the consumer culture that I’m surrounded by.

I’m no longer hiding from the unknown. I’m not bound by circumstantial beliefs. I’m not afraid of the future.

The difference is in my willingness to accept change. And if that makes me appear to be different, then so be it.

So it’s okay if I find myself no longer avoiding some of the things that I used to. I can wear a polo every day—lord knows I have enough of them packed away. I can work in the public sector. What better way to spread the light of love?

I don’t have to avoid being me—just mindful of who I really am.

All those things don’t make me a different person—just a more thoughtful one. I’m not different. And I don’t have to be afraid of who I am anymore. I’m still me, I just have a different outlook that’s all—a much, much bigger one.

That’s what’s different.

---

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this post, please consider sharing it and clicking that ❤ button, and I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments. -MJ

How has life experience changed your perception of yourself? Do you intentionally avoid things that used to define you?

Don’t like commitments, but still want to support my writing? You can make a one-time contribution here.

---

Here’s the essay that Ms Carla commented on — as usual, I had to learn my lesson the hard way.