Understanding the need to be understood

Esoteric.

Ever try to find that one word that describes you? A word that is more than a personality trait or a mere surface observation. A word that goes deep, deeper than maybe you ever wanted to search within yourself. One word that carries with it the burden of your flaws and a grip on your essence.

Esoteric is my word.

Main Entry: es · o · ter · ic
Pronunciation: "e-s&-'ter-ik, -'te-rik
Function: adjective
Etymology: Late Latin esotericus, from Greek esOterikos, from esOterO, comparative of eisO, esO within, from eis into; akin to Greek en in

Definition: understood only by a select few

Just over a year ago, I set out on a search for my word. It wasn’t a search that I was going to take lightly because, well, this was going to be my word, a one word definition of me. I would love to have some great story about how I came across the word. An epiphany. I don’t. But I do remember the search immediately ended the moment I did.

No one truly knows me; sometimes I wonder if I know myself. How often am I truly honest to myself, about myself. And there are only a few – those select few – who I’ve let close enough to see the details. Probably no closer than Row F, though.

I despise feeling vulnerable. In a way, because of that fear, much of my life has been a lie. Now I am ready to peel off a few layers of the onion.

I don’t fail. At least, that’s what I have been told: ‘Jen, you are perfect. You succeed at everything. Anything you want to do, you do.’

It’s always been easier to think that way. Perfection is an ideal, right? But now it’s time to confront the myth.

I failed my first AP biology test in 10th grade. I never told anyone. Until now.

I failed to earn one of the prestigious Harrison Scholarships at the University of Miami of Ohio. Ironically, that’s the reason I am writing this essay. That’s the reason I am in Columbia and not Oxford, Ohio.

I failed in my 3rd grade classes’ spelling bee. ‘Refrigerator’ doesn’t end in -er for those who are curious.

I failed to win the decisive match in the 2002 Georgia High School Tennis state finals. I convinced myself afterward that I was outmatched. Telling myself that was a good way to mask the simple truth – I wasn’t good enough.

I’ve failed to honor commitments. I’ve failed at staying true to my goals and to my word. I’ve failed the Golden Rule.

I’ve failed friends; I’ve failed myself; I’ve failed God. And contrary to popular belief, I fail often.

Esoteric: understood only be a select few.

I don’t like to depend on people. I like to call it self-assured. A more accurate term would be some combination of cynicism and selfishness. I like being in charge, being in control.

But it was the experience when I was as far away from control, when my life depended on depending on others that I discovered myself. Let’s go back to August 6, 2005. The story starts like this:

I reached down and gave my seatbelt a firm tug to make sure that it was locked. From my view out the window, I could see donkeys pulling carts that were stacked so high with grain that they appeared to be seconds away from toppling over. A little further down, I saw children sitting in the dust, begging for food. Behind them, mosques lined the streets.

Our plane had just touched down in Lahore, Pakistan, and I was sitting in the backseat of an old Volvo, which was taking us to where we would be staying. I refused to let go of the door’s handle as I felt like I was being driven through a video game, trying to dodge living obstacles and maneuver curves at an uncontrollable speed. At the time, I had no idea that reckless driving was a sign of masculinity in Pakistan.

That was the first of myriad cultural experiences I would encounter over the next two weeks. Only weeks before beginning my third year of college, I had headed to Pakistan with two other American women to complete missionary work in the Middle Eastern country. While the entire two-week experience undoubtedly changed my outlook on life, it was during this initial three hour drive that took me through the streets – and in a way through the lives of these people – that I questioned my outlook on life.

I doubted my own preconceived assumptions.

I watched cultural stereotypes crumble and saw the sights that news cameras never capture.

My eyes opened to another world as the experience created a new awareness in my outlook.

I learned that love is a powerful thing. It is one of the few things that is universally understood.

I realized the true meaning of ‘blessed.’ I also learned the truth behind the words ‘gluttonous’, ‘spoiled’, and ‘thankless’, all of which described Americans. All of which describe me.

I depended on a man with a gun to protect the door to our compound. I depended on my Pakistani friend to dispel the police’s threats against us foreigners. I depended on God to bring me home safe. I depended on just about everyone and everything but myself. And it worked.

Yet that peace of dependency wore off. It may be near gone now. Why?

I mask my weaknesses with confidence. I hide my insecurities with firmness. ‘I don’t want to bother anyone with my problems,’ I tell myself, while the truth is that I don’t want anyone to know.

I like being esoteric: the control it affords me, the image it allows me to emit, the truth it permits me to hide.

Esoteric: understood only by a select few.

But has esoteric gone too far? Has it led me to lie to my friends? Has it impeded my personal growth? Has it hidden the real me?

The nice thing about this little word game of mine is that I can play it again. I may have chosen ‘esoteric’ as the word that defines me, but that can be erased. It can be changed.

The question is: when will I be ready to change it? And what will my new word be.

- Jenifer