As the entire thirteen
years of my schooling life draw to a close I find myself considering what has
been achieved, what I could have done differently and what changes could have
been made.
I am a person with very
strong opinions, I do not believe in regrets and I do not believe that you
should change yourself for other people (unless, of course, you've got some
questionably shitty views on matters of the world) and this has led me to
relentless acceptance of myself and acceptance that I cannot change my personality.
At an age far too young I have had to deal uncommon, yet not unheard of issues.
I have had to fight myself and challenge myself constantly. I have had to turn
my life on its head and completely rediscover who I am.
I feel as though the people I surround myself with are extremely intellectual
thinkers and reflect positively upon me, thus helping me in unconditional
acceptance of myself - even when it's incredibly hard.
I observe other people my
age groundlessly seeking things that will not improve their happiness. Things
that are so futile in the question of their existence.
No one is going to refuse to date you because your thighs touch or because you
have dimples on your butt. No one is going to refuse to be your friend because
you don't have a flat stomach, and, to be so blatantly honest, if they did, why
the fuck would you want to date them or befriend them? Happiness will not come
through the methods magazines seem to preach.
I have been there. I have
held the belief that losing weight will create some new version of me, some
version that was underneath the excesses of health and that had been dying to
come out for 15 long years. A version of myself that was outgoing, beautiful
and happy. When I didn’t discover that girl I got mad, I didn’t know where she
was hiding and why she wouldn’t come out. She wasn’t there. She isn’t there.
And I’m okay with that, because I’ve found a pretty amazing girl in her place.
There is no way that
losing weight has brought me to where I am. I’ve had to work on myself as an
individual. I’ve had to accept that I’m not a particularly outgoing person,
that I’m introverted and that a lot of the greatest people I know are
introverted as well. I have fun when I am around people and I enjoy meeting new
people. But that does not change the fact that I’d rather sit at home reading
on a Friday night than going out.
I’m not saying this is a
better way of being, or that it is worse. It’s just different. I won’t
passively stand by while people tell me that I’m a “loser” anymore. When people
refer to me as “weird” I actually quite enjoy it – who wouldn’t want to be
weird?
Don’t get me wrong, there
is absolutely nothing wrong with being normal, but I have found that my life is
far more exciting because I’m strange. If I were normal I wouldn't have
traveled to the United States at 15 to live with a family I’d never met (who,
it turns out, were not quite “suited” to me). I would not dance around my house
when I’m home alone listening to BeyoncĂ©, and the people whom I’m close to
would probably be strangers to me.
If I were normal I would
not be me, and I like me. Sure, sometimes I have days in which I ask myself why
it just doesn't seem to “click” when I'm doing schoolwork, days in which I
wonder why I'm not artistically gifted or why I can't seem to get the words out
quite right.
I'm a strong individual
and I'd never want to ask for more. I believe in myself and I will keep
pushing. I hope that one-day I will love myself rather than just accept myself,
but for now, acceptance is enough.