The Bee and the Ant Hill


I’ve always wondered what would happen if I was an Ant.  


I was one for a long time but I don’t think I fit into the regimented routine or look-a-like phenomenon.


Being unique is a difficult road, it means some loneliness, misunderstandings and lack of fitting in.


In a different era I probably would be in an “institution” or strapped to a stake and burnt as a witch but instead I am labelled as different, quirky, unique or eccentric.


So what makes me walk away from the ant hill to join the bees?  I would categorize it as a passion to be heard, seen and appreciated but unfortunately I can’t pat myself on the back for escaping.  Circumstances expedited my flight to freedom. 


As a child I found it difficult to bond with others however my imagination and collection of dolls and stuffed animals provided some great companionship.  In my teens I found writing to be the best emotional outlet.  In my twenties I focused my time on being a parent and forging a career.


In my thirties I convinced myself I needed to be “Normal” and worked to fit in but I found out was that disguising my true nature can backfire and explode into depression, addictions and irrational behaviour.


In my forties I came full circle and accepted myself with all eccentricities but most importantly I let go of the need to fit in.  I now surround myself with quirky people who make up the fabric of my life. 


Next month will mark ten years with my current employer and most of it was spent in a department where I felt like an outcast.  


I tried to fit in and wanted others to understand me but to no avail.


I carried a lot of resentment for many years until I started in a new department with people who were like me and I realized that I was not an Ant I was a Bee, how silly of me not to realize who I really was.


So many times I wished for that feeling of warmth and belonging but I didn’t find it in the ant hill.  Eventually when I was forced out in a turn of events type of way, the truth emerged.


Today I spend my time celebrating my new found hive with excitement and a renewed hope that I will continue on the path of true identity and acceptance.


I didn’t belong with the ants but while I was there I am very much at fault for not realizing their purpose in my life; to create the urge in me to be true to myself.  


I was disappointed when I left that few of my ant family took the time to wish me well or celebrate my time in their midst, I guess they don’t realize the impact they had in my life.  I won’t soon forget my ant family but now I must buzz on with the bees.  


As I walk away from the ant hill I can scarcely recognize those I left behind but once in a while when I fly low I spot my fellow ants and remember that I once lived in an Ant Hill.