BY: MARK KONING
I spent most of my childhood and young adult years feeling out of place; I didn’t think of myself as a normal kid. I could not understand why I had such a difficult time with things that seemed to come so easy to the others.
I was six-years-old when the viral infection made its way into my brain, and it was many, many years later that I was diagnosed with a brain injury. Living within the unknown made things that much more challenging. Bottling up my emotions and refraining from telling anyone about these difficulties didn’t help much either.
There were many things I thought of that might give me some of that ‘normalcy’ in life, but I could never figure out just how to go about getting them.
Enter the mistletoe, a small leafy object that got its recognition during the Christmas holidays. I had witnessed its use in movies, on television, and even in person. I had read and heard stories about its magical aura. As per whychristimas.com:
The tradition of hanging it in the house goes back to the times of the ancient Druids. It is supposed to possess mystical powers which bring good luck to the household and wards off evil spirits. It was also used as a sign of love and friendship in Norse mythology and that’s where the custom of kissing under Mistletoe comes from.
So getting kissed under this cheery decoration, I thought, would signify my ‘normalcy’. Well, at least it was a step toward becoming one of the guys, right? I mean getting a kiss, a girlfriend, that’s what being one of the guys means, right?
The idea of some amazingly cute girl kissing me with her lovely lips was a beautiful thing. It was also scary – very scary in fact! So why did I become obsessed with making sure we had this small plant in our house every year? To this day, I’m not exactly sure I know the answer.
See, I would make sure this delicate Christmas object of affection was put up in just the right spot, and then, I would do everything I could to avoid that spot. I’ve said nothing about this to anyone until now, despite I repeating this ritual for several years.
It was somewhat counter-productive when I look back on it all. It was as if something in me was saying, ‘This is how you become normal,’ while another voice inside said ‘That’s a load of crap!’
These days I no longer bother with the mystical object meant to garner a kiss. I know a kiss won’t make me ‘normal.’ I don’t need anything to make me normal, because I am normal already.
A kiss is not going to turn me into a prince
A kiss is not going to make me a better person.
But, that doesn’t mean I would refuse a lovely lady.
Mark’s passion to lend a helping hand, offer advice and give back has developed into a moral and social responsibility with the goal of sharing, inspiring and growing – for others as well as himself. His experience as a survivor, caregiver, mentor and writer has led to his credibility as an ABI Advocate and author of his life’s story, Challenging Barriers & Walking the Path. Follow him on Twitter @Mark_Koning or go to www.markkoning.com