As someone who has people-pleased her way into many less-than-ideal situations, I’ve always been intrigued by, and somewhat in awe of, people who are unafraid to be themselves. Those who don’t care what anyone thinks of them. Those who don’t care if they miss the mark with what they wear, what they say, what they do.
My dad was a great example of this. He was loud and brash with a wicked, if at times offensive, sense of humour, always delivering each verbal blow with a twinkle in his eye. He also had a kind heart and was the biggest champion of the underdog I have ever met in my life. He would talk to a homeless person the same way he would have spoken to the Queen, if he’d ever met her. He was a straight talker, and you always knew where you stood with him. What you saw was what you got as they say, and he was completely unapologetic about that fact.
I can’t help but think how much easier life would be if I was that way too. No anxiety induced knots in the stomach worrying over whether I’ll be liked, be included, fit in. No imposter syndrome. No overthinking everything I said yesterday, last week, last year. No trying so hard to be accepted that I sometimes lose track of who I really am.
It isn’t necessarily unusual to need to fit the narrative every so often. We all find ourselves having to wear different hats at times as we navigate the challenges of modern life. An average day could see us being called upon to be a parent, a teacher, a chef, a taxi driver, a counsellor, a CEO, a nurse. Effortlessly slipping into character is a prerequisite for simply getting through the day sometimes, being adaptable is a great attribute after all, but it’s not the same as slipping into character because you don’t quite fit in.
I’ve always felt a little different, that square peg round hole thing I’ve mentioned before, but not so different I can’t exist alongside the more normal amongst us, just different enough to feel on the outer. When people are being kind, they say I’m interesting, quirky, independent. When they’re not being quite so kind, they say I’m emotional, odd, aloof.
I’m sure it’s of no surprise the negative perceptions are the ones which stay with me. Rejection hits hard, every-single-time (I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve been told I’m too sensitive), and it’s for this reason I try so hard to fit in.
Which is all well and good in the moment, but it isn’t without its challenges. For instance, I feel unable to blend various areas of my life, keeping friendship groups segregated, and especially keeping work fenced off from the rest of my life, because they just don’t make sense together. They’re all so, well, different, and they all know an ever-so-slightly different version of me, and sometimes I’m not sure which version is the most authentic, because no matter how hard I try, I never completely fit.
And whilst I may lament over a lack of true connection, I choose to put a positive spin on it all. I have an interesting life, and an eclectic, if select, tribe of people who seem to want to keep me in theirs.
I really wouldn’t change much, even if I could, but I’m on a quest to understand myself, because then maybe, just maybe, I can finally be me.
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