Human Zoo

I have a people problem. I don’t have a problem with people, but really the opposite. I grew up in a relatively small, midwestern town. Same stuff nearly every day, including the evening train sounding the end of another small town day. I knew most of my classmates since elementary, and knew all the town jokes, but I had a perk. My Mom worked one town over, in the giant metropolis Cape Girardeau. There she worked in Resident Housing for SEMO (the local university) and that made me an office kid. We would get dropped off at her work where my sister and I would promptly eat snacks and do homework at the conference table like tiny business people. The perks of being an office kid include: unlimited doting, extra snacks and unlimited access to large-scale office supplies.

While we were in the office, there would often be a variety of characters that would come through. Now I remember this from a kid’s perspective. There are four people that shaped my love of people watching. There was Chip, the young man who was gay, but I didn’t know that. I just knew he had good energy and was always smiling. There was Sharon, who was somewhat of a grumpy Gus, but always had a hard candy for us. There was Rainbow, yes, that was what she had us call her. She was our babysitter from time to time, and I remember her being a brilliant, shiny person. Then there was Shelia. A quiet, conservative professional black woman. She radiated intelligence. She spoke calmly and confidently always. She was the polar opposite of my zany energy. She always took time to come down to our level to talk. She made you feel seen, safe, and heard. Even thinking back gives happiness chills.

What this personal sitcom cast gave me was a wonder for people. I never got enough just watching them be people. They were loud and busy and had somewhere to be, the world be damned! It was electrifying. As I got older, I was sure that was how I wanted to be. I figured the only way to do that was to give the world unfettered access to the all-hours-open Michael-Mart! I was the human equivalent of Walmart. If you walked up to me, the doors opened, and you were free to shop or just steal from me if you wanted. I kept the doors open despite my personal profits taking a hit.

It was not long ago when talking to my therapist (yes, I am a complicated person with decent insurance) that I discussed this idea of being “too available” to the general public. It left me turned-off people, even though I was still in love with its diversity. She hit me with some strong analogy and therapy talk that sums up to “be a human zoo”.

It doesn’t have to be “cut yourself off from the world or give the world your soul”. You can be viewable, but on your terms. Anyone can see the elephants, but only a few can feed them. As I get older and find my social battery getting lower, I have had to start building my own human zoo. A healthy barrier that allows me to share the fascinating person I am, but identifying my “handlers”. People that will get access to me on a personal level. I think with social media it is easy to feel that you need to be out there present daily, and that is fair. It’s easy to feel that way, I do. I think in order to find some peace as a big, ole elephant I think you have to be ok knowing that some people won’t come to see you, but the ones that still do will feel so much more special.

So I guess what I am saying is, if you are interested in this elephant, then please come by and don’t mind the fence because I am happy you are here.