Normality’s worst fear is being trapped in a cage labelled weird.
Discovering my identity has been a continuous pilgrimage to find my true, unfiltered self—the one I had hidden and enslaved to the expectations of today’s society. Preconceived notions about being weird or different loomed over my insecure, developing teenage brain.
Constant judgment from others cut wounds so deep that authenticity didn’t stand a chance.
I have had to confront the version of me that was always acting, putting on a show for the disapproving eyes who deemed me unworthy, scowling at my imperfections. In the process, I have learned to listen to the honest version of myself, rather than the performative one that yearned to be loved, seen, and wanted.
Growing up, I was very talkative, quirky, and outgoing. I resembled a customizable Barbie doll, wearing only the loudest of colours and mismatched patterns, making for some questionable outfits. I wore purple feathered earrings, thick zebra-striped glasses, and sometimes even frilly dresses embellished with glittering gems and rhinestones.
I had a remarkable sense of creativity, and my imagination roamed freely, gallivanting wherever it chose. I wasn’t scared to express my individuality. I knew I was different, but I was content with that. That is, until high school.
My elementary school had provided me with security and sheltered me from the brutal realization that if I wanted to be accepted, I would have to shrink my big personality down to society’s standards—an unspoken rule I had to obey.
Not long after I started high school, I noticed I was acting differently in front of people who I realized were unsafe for me to be authentic around. I would stay behind a meticulously constructed version of myself. I wore a mask, intricately stitched, held together by insecurity and fear. I performed only what I thought people wanted to see, not who I truly was deep down. I was scared of being ridiculed by others for my uniqueness.
I referred to this switch as “robot mode.” I felt like a cyborg. I was able to be myself to a certain extent, but eventually my inferiority complex would sabotage any chance I had of being fully secure in my identity. The burning desire to be accepted, acknowledged as conventional, resulted in a fabricated sense of self; I was lost in a maze of my own making. I was digging. Digging for reassurance, belonging, and endorsement.
Then, one day, I put the shovel down.
Discovering the soulfulness of being one of a kind is transformative.
Though I was raised in the church, surrounded by faith, it wasn’t until I faced my insecurities that I discovered my true identity in Jesus. The light of Christ helped me to see myself in his perfect image.
Discovering the soulfulness of being one of a kind is transformative. I began to face the hidden parts of myself so I could allow them to shine in their own unique ways.
Changing your perspective from the depths of doubt to the highs of confidence will alter anyone’s life for the better—I know it did for me. I will never allow the whispers of insecurity to conquer my consciousness ever again, and for that I am grateful.
