## The Weird Ones Are The Cool Ones: Don’t Unweird Yourself

You guys know those out of the box, eccentric, strange even, kind of people? The ones who aren’t stuck in the repetition of being generic, giving generic responses expecting generic answers? The ones who aren’t confined to a box assuming anyone who doesn’t fit into that box is weird? Yeah, those are the cool people, the people who are really living. Generic people are the weird ones. They are like manipulated plants growing in a dome or a sort of laboratory. Like programmed droids.

I like weird. Conformity is boring but for the most part inescapable. We all follow something. All working towards some sort of goal or purpose, usually what we call ‘success.’ Or even if it’s working to stand out, we all follow some sort of guideline. And in spite of if you want to admit it or not: we are all a little weird. But there is a whole category of people who miss out on life by not allowing themselves to be weird enough.

I always seen those awkward, out of place, quiet ones when I was a kid and I knew they had so much to say but didn’t maybe in fear of being ridiculed or looked at funny?Thats how I felt so I can only assume there are others out there who felt the same. You had an opinion for most things, and were knowledgable on certain subjects but you never spoke up because you didn’t know if maybe your response was weird and the kids would judge you for having out the box thinking.

When we are deemed as weird as a young kid, we learn to safeguard the things we love. We keep them hidden within our hearts in fear of someone mocking us out of cruelty or just plain ignorance.

I’ve learned as I got older that its stupid to hide the real you. The things you like and the thoughts that come to you are uniquely yours. Your neighbor might have a less creative, more basic opinion on the same topic but that doesnt mean there is something wrong with you for thinking outside of the box. Your other neighbor may be so outside of the box hes lost over in left field, but that’s okay too, were all different, and all weird in our own ways. Don’t unweird yourself. Get out there, live, take up enough space for all the parts of you-beautiful, tragic, devious, kind, and even strange-to come together.

I personally think the ones that people consider “weird” are the deep thinkers, the old souls, the caretakers, the loners, the quiet ones. These people look at life in a different light with a sensory overload, and trapped in mind thoughts that something different must have happened in their genetic coding because nobody else seems to share the same level of insight into the layers of depth that they see everywhere. Most people seem to follow a narrow path with signs helping them lead the way, everything simple, no questions needing answers. Then the ‘weird’ ones have a thousand different paths that seem to disappear or lead to another one shortly after, and then lead back, and through and over and under, and everywhere in between. Nothing is clear, questions are everywhere.

These people usually end up expressing themselves in some sort of creative manner. Through the different forms of art: music, writing, painting, designing and so on. To be able to see the inside of the minds of these people is so intriguing to me. They bring so much more flavor to life.

I truly believe we all have something to bring to the table but a lot of us are stuck in trying to “find ourselves.” We shouldn’t be searching for who we are but Instead expressing the person we truly feel we are inside instead of trying to run from it. You can’t run from yourself. Your opinions, ideas and thoughts make you, you. Dont be afraid to raise your hand and let it be your time to speak.

“Shout out to the wild, the curious, the rebels, and risk takers. You are the leader of your hearts desires and artists to your souls inner fire.” Helen Edward’s 

## Looking Back

 

I remember when I was younger I was so bad at expressing myself to the point where I started to believe something was wrong with me.

It started when I was young: I was a very shy kid, almost to the point of feeling sick when in the presence of people I may have to communicate with. Especially if my mom, dad or sister wasn’t around. When one of my parents didn’t speak for me, my sister a year older than I am, would do so. Which probably didnt help in terms of breaking out of that shell I was in.

I was the quiet girl all through elementary, like no word of a lie I did not speak unless spoken to, unless it came to my friends. I had a small group of friends, me and three other girls and we were inseparable. I met them in grade 2 and we all still talk to this day. I was blessed to have them. When I was with them I could be my goofy, confident self because I knew they liked me, I wasnt trying to prove myself to them. I guess with everyone else, that’s how I felt.

I worried about sounding weird or out of place, or stupid even, so I stayed quiet. Even in group projects, I spoke when spoken to. Although half the time I had great ideas for the project and I’d sit there with the thought on the tip of my tongue, psyching myself out about all the possible outcomes. The group laughs, or gives me a funny look or even if they simply shut down the idea: now they all just heard how I thought and get to read a little bit into me and judge. I didn’t want that, I’d rather just be quiet so that nobody could have an opinion of me. I might have been the boring, quiet girl but that was better than maybe, possibly being judged or ridiculed.

I remember in grade three in gym class we had to play duck duck goose almost every gym class and I hated it with a passion. It was my least favorite gym activity because it singled people out. When you are the one running around the circle you are the center of attention, every eye on you. And God forbid you didnt get chosen, people may think you’re unlikeable or a loser for never getting chosen. I was a nervous wreck every time I knew gym was coming up. Eventually I told my teacher how nervous it made me and she told me I didnt have to play. Now I was the kid sitting on the side not playing duck duck goose. Probably even weirder but I didnt care, I got out of the Devils circle. Then my teacher got pregnant and we got a replacement. She made me play duck, duck goose. Bitch.

It really was the best thing for me though. We have to learn to get out of our comfort zones if we ever want to be the confident, poised person we hope to be. We can not live life hiding behind or wall, held back by our own timidity. Gotta break out of those shells guys!

For me, it took a long time to say the least. A lot of soul searching, self-improvement techniques and mostly pushing myself past limits I thought unattainable. I waited too long though, I stayed stuck in my ways all throughout high school. I assumed “no one would ever get it” or “they may think I’m weird.”

I moved to a new city when I went to high school, 2 hours away from my friends. Only person I knew at the school was my sister. She made friends, I stuck to myself. People even tried to be friends with me at first but these people seemed exciting and like they had something interesting to talk about all the time and boring old me had nothing to bring to the table so I allowed myself to be intimated and shy away from any genuine connection.

I regret that a lot because I know I would have eventually opened up and been my goofy self that all my friends back at home loved, and possibly been loved by more people too. I avoided talking to anyone, I asked every teacher if I could do group projects alone, I walked home for lunch alone or hid in the bathroom stalls. I didn’t know how to make friends but also didnt want to try, but didn’t want anyone to see I was a loner at the same time.

I thought high school was never gonna end. I became very angry with the world and started lashing out on my family. I couldnt express myself anywhere else in the world so when it came to the people I loved, I was a monster. I would try to have a normal discussion and if someone did something as simple as disagree with one thing I said, I would freak out and claim how the people are so lost and “no one gets it” “no one will ever get it.” I blamed everyone but myself for why I felt so out of place and misunderstood.

I eventually started drinking heavily and upgraded to drugs. A lot of them. I did them in my room alone mostly, sometimes with the guy I met on Facebook who went to my highschool, and eventually became my boyfriend (who got kicked out in grade 9 so, we did not experience highschool together.) All I wanted to do was escape.

Drugs helped nothing, hiding out helped nothing. I became so retreated into myself and disconnected with the world to the point where I didnt want to do anything. Everything became harder and felt absolutely pointless. I was a miserable specimen dragging myself through each day, assuming it was always going to be that way. How the hell was I supposed to break out of this darkness that seemed to be enveloping my entire being? In my mind there was no way out, I couldnt just read self-help books and tell a therapist how I felt and everything would get better.

I put my parents through hell. I couldnt have a normal conversation without it ending up with my screaming at the top of my lungs, hitting myself on the head, throwing things or smashing my fist through a wall. I destroyed their house many times. They have called the cops on me about five different occasions, afraid of me really hurting myself or someone else.

I couldn’t express the thoughts spiraling around my mind, never understanding how people couldn’t put two and two together, reading expressions, social cues and all that, so instead I expressed myself through violence. My loved ones were supposed to get it right? To understand?

Anger was the only relief I seemed to have to sort help. But it wasnt helping anyone. Now people seen how hard it was for me to be able to express myself obviously if I went to lengths to hurt myself and spaz out, right? Maybe now they would see that I just had a harder time than other people in spilling my mind on the outside. But nope, now I was the girl who couldnt express myself due to my own issues as well as the crazy bitch who screams and hits herself and walls when she doesn’t get her way. The anger helped nothing.

 **"The most important things are the hardest to say. They are the things you get ashamed of, because words diminish them — words shrink things that seemed limitless when they were in your head to no more than living size when they’re brought out. But it’s more than that, isn’t it? The most important things lie too close to wherever your secret heart is buried, like landmarks to a treasure your enemies would love to steal away. And you may make revelations that cost you dearly only to have people look at you in a funny way, not understanding what you’ve said at all, or why you thought it was so important that you almost cried while you were saying it. That’s the worst, I think. When the secret stays locked within not for want of a teller but for want of an understanding ear.** ***-Stephen King (best dude ever who helped my young self through some tough times)*** 

 

When I got out of high school I knew I needed a job if I wanted to support my drug habit. And maybe a car, so I can run away and fuck off to the mountains and live alone? I applied everywhere and anywhere. I’d take whatever I can get. I ended up in a kitchen. I love cooking and thought it would be a good fit. Within a month I was opening the restaurant myself, prepping and cooking the lunch menu on my own and became a valuable part of the business. I was proud of myself.

If you ever worked in a kitchen, you know it’s not very easy to stay quiet. A lot of chefs/cooks are the same: loud, opinionated, arrogant at times, cocky, proud. A sensitive person trying to work in a kitchen? Good luck! Haha, that was me and man was it hard. Any criticism I would get I teared up and went to cry in the walk in. Then eventually I started to deny I could ever make a mistake so I made an excuse for anything I did wrong. I blamed something or someone else, it was never my fault.

Over time, working in such a high stress, over simulated industry, I eventually gained more of a backbone. I realized it was respected to admit your wrong doings and simply do better next time. I spoke up when I knew I was right and I didnt take anyones bullshit. I became proud of who I was and slowly was expressing myself more because I assumed my opinions had value. Plus everyone is friends in the food industry: you all love to complain about the customers and about the night or morning shift not doing their switchovers properly. We are all a big family of bitching and complaining about things we know will never change.

I didnt even realize it was happening but I gradually broke out of the shell I was in my whole life. I started going out with friends and being myself while doing so. I wasnt afraid to be me anymore and it genuinely is the best feeling in the world when you realize the darkness has slowly lifted.

I still love my alone time probably more than I should and I still let it get to me that no one will ever see the same picture or hear the same song I do. We all interpret things differently. Sometimes I feel I can read into exactly what someone is thinking and I help them get their words across because I can tell they were struggling. A lot of the time my intuition is spot on, and sometimes it isn’t. We never really know exactly what is in someones mind or soul but that’s what makes life interesting.

Learning to accept that instead of claiming your are misunderstood indefinitely, is the first step to making life a little easier on yourself. We are all misunderstood and none of us are special because of it and the world owes us nothing. You owe it to yourself to express your unique self in this world. Or hide behind a rock and never know what it’s like to really live, that’s cool too but please don’t complain that life wasnt enough. It’s enough for a lot of us because we found what we needed to make it enough for us.

&amp;#x200B;

&gt;***Today’s Reminder***: Now I know how to end an argument by simply refusing to participate, to turn to my higher Power for help with whatever I’m powerless to change, to say “no,” when I mean no, and to step back from insanity rather than driving into it. Detachment is a loving gift I continue to give to myself and others. “If a man carries his own lantern, he need not fear darkness.” – Hasidie Saying

I know this post was super long, I'm sorry. I am just hoping to help even a few people feel less alone. 

**If you would like to read some books on being yourself and learning about your emotions scroll to the bottom of** [this page](https://maskedhoney.com/do-social-awkwardness-plus-high-intelligence-go-hand-in-hand/) **and you'll find all my recommendations.**