Being Me

Well, as I mentioned yesterday when I talked about the Happiness Project and the author's personal commandments, I was really struck by the one that is "Being ___[insert your own name]."

It sounds so obvious and yet -- not. I think most of us are used to masking who we really are in order to fit in or hating ourselves because we don't, whether it's with your family or coworkers or friends (Thankfully, I have a huge number of friends and family who seem to accept my eccentric self the way I am for the most part). Still, being a creative type who tends to work with very normal people, it's really more often than not that I have to hide at least parts of my true nature. Now, I don't act fake. I don't pretend to like shopping or discussions about domestic things like bathroom improvements. In fact, I'm sometimes way too opinionated. I used to have a notepad that stated, "Everyone's Entitled to My Opinion." Uh-huh. But the surly curl of my lip while raising my eyebrows at the very idea of having bathroom improvements in my life has never in any way meant to put other people's interests down. It was more an insecurity thing. Part of me wishes I were more "normal," that I fit in with what regular 40-something women were into. (I do admit to trying to get into "Dancing With the Stars" in order to be able to participate in a lunch time discussion with colleagues...*cough*, that didn't last very long)

The other part of me is very pleased that I do not fit in. I may not have a normal marriage or own a house or have 2.2 kids and a dog, but I have had experiences not many others I have run into have. I have lived in foreign countries, I have traveled alone, I have looked death and horror in the face in the guise of an armed robber/rapist. I have made rash decisions, some of which have come out okay and some have not. But I never regret not trying.

So what does "Being Andrea" mean? It means owning my own experiences and ways of looking at life. It means being okay with being a writer who has yet to follow through on something (although that's changing now). It means not being ashamed that I like hokey old school soca music and Abba and 80s hits and occasionally really angry hip hop. It means openly admitting to people older than my three-year-old niece that I think mermaids are the coolest. It means not being ashamed that I talk to my cat in silly sing-song in the bathroom (the neighbors probably concur that this is dorkitude). It means admitting that I love bad horror movies (and of course vacation gone wrong movies!) and dark, gritty true crime shows. It means admitting and being okay with not liking to go out late at night to parties or rock concerts or baby showers.

I feel like I should be writing more that is profound here. There is probably more to say on this. A lot more. But I will stop for now. Stay tuned for writings about writing soon!