Colorful
I briefly spoke
about this topic some years ago, but, of course, with time passing, changes
happen, as well as slip-ups. (It can be read clicking here: Talk Bad, Talk Good).
I bring this subject about being yourself back up with sort of a heavy heart. Blame it on my INFJ personality or whatever, but I like being in tune with myself, why I do certain things and etc. sometimes calling myself out on it when certain relationships or situations are at risk that I am not wanting to jeopardize or ruin because I acted immaturely.
Anywhoo, I believe I still have a heavy heart because I dwell on my acceptance of who I am a lot.
I have this saying about myself: "Once an outcast, always an outcast." And that was exactly what I was growing up; I cannot remember any time that I could be defined either black or white. I did not have a care for any fairytale princess stories--still not an advocate for that corny romance stuff--but loved playing with my dolls, WWF video games and getting dirt under my nails, acting a fool outside. Barbie dolls do not seem to fit while simultaneously revving up a Kawasaki, compared to my sister's Barbie jeep. She was the girly-girl, I was not. But on the contrary, I still did some things that were deemed "girly."
Then I got bullied in middle school. That was where I really felt like an outcast. Not only did I feel I did not belong in a set place inside, but I had others making that point very vocal and clear that I was not like them. This made me "shut myself in" around unfamiliars, and even my own friends at the time. They did not even fully know the true me.
The adjectives that became associated with me were quiet and shy, which was not the case at all. But if I kept my mouth shut, who would really bother me? Of course, people always have something to say, but what could they really say about me that they knew without a doubt? Nothing.
Not saying much made me a very observant individual. No eyes were on me, so I watched others and how they would act/react to the constant drama that invades a high school. It was endless, which made me more sure of my place on being at the outskirts. But I still felt like I was trapped in a cage in that place; I could only be me at home--and even then, there came some struggle because I had a sister who had the most colorful closet in the world, wedges and purses and all, while my closet looked like "the dungeon of doom" with endless black/dark t-shirts and DC sneakers. She made it known I was not the typical.
For someone like me, being free of high school was like heaven on earth. I was finally free to be me without chains my whole day through. But, of course, after graduating high school is like another huge leap into finding your identity.
I was mildly lucky, taking a year off before jumping right into college. It allowed me to start with baby steps, getting comfortable with who I was and what I would call "my roots" I stand on. Within that year, I learned the most about myself. I actually came to accept I was an outcast, I would forever be one and that was okay. Matter of fact, being an outcast is beautiful. Acceptance served as initiation to this blog.
When I finally began college, I went through more, countless stages of being me no matter what, remembering that you can be doing your greatest and still going to be talked about--bad or good--or you can be doing your worst, and the same will happen. I have had to reteach myself lessons I had already learned, but forgotten. I had to learn new lessons as well. Still learning.
You do you boo-boo, but the typical is boring to me. The "dumb jock role," "prissy sorority girl role," "the player/player-ette role," etc. are black and white, and I much prefer color. I am glad I never fit in and will never fit in. It just does not stick to me well. Never has.
Embrace what sets you apart. It might be difficult to stumble upon peeps that will accept you fully, but not impossible. May not be many, but that is fine too. As Logic says, "My circle is smaller than an intervention," and quality is way better than quantity. I recommend you do not take those peeps for granted either. At the end of the day, I guarantee, they will be the ones to have your back.
I bring this subject about being yourself back up with sort of a heavy heart. Blame it on my INFJ personality or whatever, but I like being in tune with myself, why I do certain things and etc. sometimes calling myself out on it when certain relationships or situations are at risk that I am not wanting to jeopardize or ruin because I acted immaturely.
Anywhoo, I believe I still have a heavy heart because I dwell on my acceptance of who I am a lot.
I have this saying about myself: "Once an outcast, always an outcast." And that was exactly what I was growing up; I cannot remember any time that I could be defined either black or white. I did not have a care for any fairytale princess stories--still not an advocate for that corny romance stuff--but loved playing with my dolls, WWF video games and getting dirt under my nails, acting a fool outside. Barbie dolls do not seem to fit while simultaneously revving up a Kawasaki, compared to my sister's Barbie jeep. She was the girly-girl, I was not. But on the contrary, I still did some things that were deemed "girly."
Then I got bullied in middle school. That was where I really felt like an outcast. Not only did I feel I did not belong in a set place inside, but I had others making that point very vocal and clear that I was not like them. This made me "shut myself in" around unfamiliars, and even my own friends at the time. They did not even fully know the true me.
The adjectives that became associated with me were quiet and shy, which was not the case at all. But if I kept my mouth shut, who would really bother me? Of course, people always have something to say, but what could they really say about me that they knew without a doubt? Nothing.
Not saying much made me a very observant individual. No eyes were on me, so I watched others and how they would act/react to the constant drama that invades a high school. It was endless, which made me more sure of my place on being at the outskirts. But I still felt like I was trapped in a cage in that place; I could only be me at home--and even then, there came some struggle because I had a sister who had the most colorful closet in the world, wedges and purses and all, while my closet looked like "the dungeon of doom" with endless black/dark t-shirts and DC sneakers. She made it known I was not the typical.
For someone like me, being free of high school was like heaven on earth. I was finally free to be me without chains my whole day through. But, of course, after graduating high school is like another huge leap into finding your identity.
I was mildly lucky, taking a year off before jumping right into college. It allowed me to start with baby steps, getting comfortable with who I was and what I would call "my roots" I stand on. Within that year, I learned the most about myself. I actually came to accept I was an outcast, I would forever be one and that was okay. Matter of fact, being an outcast is beautiful. Acceptance served as initiation to this blog.
When I finally began college, I went through more, countless stages of being me no matter what, remembering that you can be doing your greatest and still going to be talked about--bad or good--or you can be doing your worst, and the same will happen. I have had to reteach myself lessons I had already learned, but forgotten. I had to learn new lessons as well. Still learning.
You do you boo-boo, but the typical is boring to me. The "dumb jock role," "prissy sorority girl role," "the player/player-ette role," etc. are black and white, and I much prefer color. I am glad I never fit in and will never fit in. It just does not stick to me well. Never has.
Embrace what sets you apart. It might be difficult to stumble upon peeps that will accept you fully, but not impossible. May not be many, but that is fine too. As Logic says, "My circle is smaller than an intervention," and quality is way better than quantity. I recommend you do not take those peeps for granted either. At the end of the day, I guarantee, they will be the ones to have your back.
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