I'm weird.
Strange.
Obsessive.
Loud.
Odd.
A dork.
I swear too much.
These are labels I wear proudly.
Most of the time.
But some of the time they creep in like a burr under my skin. An irritation. A mild hurt. A festering sore in my being that tells that no matter how hard I try to both be myself and to fit in, I can't. It's one or the other. I hate these labels when someone thrusts them upon me in jest, or in insult.
No one sees how hard I have to work just to skirt the edge of 'normal', and it's exhausting.
I talk about feminism and human rights and I feel like I get a pat on the head and a 'that's nice, Shannon' as though they were indulging the wild imaginings of a child.
I speak about getting myself tested for Autism and I get, "Everybody's a bit weird. You're fine."
I talk about a new video game or book or movie that I'm really excited about and I tone it waaaaaay down from the excitement level in my head and I still get treated like I'm insane.
I feel alone.
What I really want is to be entirely me on the outside, without toning down anything, and have someone, or a group of someones, think that I'm completely awesome, just as I am.
Instead of acceptance, I feel like I get patronisation and toleration.
People tell me not to isolate myself but it is so exhausting pretending to be something that others would accept, that I spend hours and days alone just to stay sane.
I wish I had someone I could reach out to talk to about this, really talk to. Real and honest and messy. That I could be angry or sad or frustrated and be allowed the space and time to feel such things. From a friend, not someone I'm paying to listen to me. (For the record: I do have a counselor. She's awesome and I last saw her a couple weeks ago.)
I am not ashamed of myself; for being overly emotional or forgetful or lost inside my head much of the time. For feeling too much and getting overly excited or for my intuition overriding my logic or for being an unorthodox mother and wife.
I relate to people who are covered in piercings and tattoos. They have outwardly altered their bodies to match the oddness they feel within. It calls to the strangeness and brokenness in others. In me.
I feel for gay people and transgendered individuals; it must be awful for the world to judge you for the things that make you, you. I hate that religion gives people the courage to speak out in hatred and ignorance towards those who are misunderstood.
Despite the fact that I tick most of the boxes that label me as 'normal' and all but one that label me 'privileged', I have always felt 'other'.
Strange.
Different.
Abnormal.
So I guess the point of my pity party is this: if you've ever felt the same way, I would like to get to know you better. I'm searching for my 'tribe', whatever that is. I want people who are honest, in pain, angry, filled with love and awe for the things the world has turned its back on. I think the only way people like us survive is by supporting each other. So send me a message. Post a reply. Tell me your story. Maybe we can get through this together.
With all my love,
-Nan
P.S. For those of you who know me in real life as Shannon, Nan is a nickname my close family calls me. Inside my head it's my name. Most people call me Shannon though. So call me whichever name you'd prefer.
