The Munchkins of Oz (27th Post)

Summer ended and I began 11th grade in “The Merry Old Land of OZ” a.k.a high school. (See previous posts). My mission that year was one of assimilation into Munchkin Land -a.k.a the student body. Like most teenagers, I just wanted to belong.

Unfortunately, and honestly for me, I have very few memories of my junior year. I am uncertain as to why, however, my curiosity concerning the unsolved puzzle of me led to form the following theories. In my junior year at OZ, everything I encountered was new and unknown. Perhaps, attempting to learn so much newness, (with a TBI brain), may have resulted in neuro fatigue, which impacted my memory. Catholic school to me felt like a black and white silent movie. In comparison, OZ felt like a movie with Technicolor, C.G.I, and Surround Sound. In addition, there was all the noise, commotion, and liveliness of my fellow Munchkins. Consequently, all this sensory overstimulation may have affected my ability to make memories. Emotions are a necessary part of creating memory retention. Therefore, my desperation skill of smothering my emotions may have been a factor in memory loss. And finally, maybe it was all of the above or none of the above. In contrast though, for my senior year, I have a treasure trove of memories. This result might have occurred due to my success with assimilating into OZ, and the support of my Munchkin Go-To-List for assistance with my undiagnosed TBI symptoms. Just guessing here.  Back to my entry into OZ.

The entrance into my junior year was graced by a heartwarming reunion with my former schoolmates, who had fled our catholic school for OZ after we graduated 8th grade. These schoolmates were the first to be placed on my Munchkin Go-ToList. The year was 1968 when I entered OZ. By then it turned out most of my former schoolmates had evolved into Hippies. I quickly adopted this concept. I was attracted to the necklaces of beads, the bell bottom jeans, large floppy hats, flower print tops, flowing maxi skirts, sexy mini skirts, and leather bags. My former schoolmates went on to introduce me to their Munchkin friends. 4 of the new guys had formed a garage band. At their concerts and jam sessions, it was big fun to be able to say “I am with the band.” 

On my own, I was successful in meeting new non-hippie Munchkins to hang out with. I gravitated to the diversity of the Munchkins, as I found all the groups interesting, and they captured my time and attention. I had come from a world of conformity that was very small in size. At OZ, I found all the human diversity expanded and rounded out my world. I took on the complication of juggling different groups of Munchkins, as, by that time in my life, complications were always occurring in my journey to solve the puzzle of me. This was just another puzzle to figure out. And what I figured out was I liked and wanted diverse people in my life. 

In the midst of all this, I found It VERY anxiety-provoking to meet so many new Munchkins. However, the driving needs to have a large rotation cycle for my Go-To-List overrun the fears. Ironically, in the midst of almost daily passive suicidal ideation, finding ways to survive was paramount to me. I had found ways to survive Wonderland in spite of my undiagnosed symptoms. In fact, I even thrived. I hoped to accomplish the same survival mission while in OZ. 

 I cannot begin to describe how fascinating, delightful, and comforting it was to not just attend OZ but also be a part of the heart of OZ. OZ was dynamic. Oz was filled with interesting, diverse complex characters, many opportunities, and a plethora of options. I wanted to become one of the beats of Oz’s heart. In spite of all my symptoms, a part of me experienced happiness I had not known before. It was the happiness one feels in belonging. I felt I had belonged at Wonderland and desperately hoped I would belong in OZ. And maybe one day, I would just finally feel like I fit in the world and no longer be a lost child.

I had faith my To-Go-To-List, once filled with Munchkins' names, would be a compass to assist my debilitating symptoms. For as Robert Fulghum said, “And it is true no matter how old you are, when you go out into the world it is best to hold hands and stick together.” I could not wait to “hold the hands” of the Munchkin Villagers.