On being authentic

How many times have you “met” someone online, only to be disappointed when you meet them in real life due to the lack of similarities to their online persona? Between chat groups, meet ups and yes – Tinder, Bumble and the like, it’s so, so important to not sell yourself short, but also not tell tall tales. It’s too easy to portray yourself online as the person you’ve always dreamed of being. I used to be shy. Like, very, VERY shy to the point that I was scared to order fries at McDonalds because I didn’t want to talk to the cashier. I used to go to bed before the babysitter got there, even though it was 2 hours before my bed time. I would do EVERYTHING in my power to avoid talking to people I didn’t know well. Why? I really don’t know, I think I was just born that way. Kind of ironic because I now pride myself to being able to talk to anyone, anytime, about anything! (Within reason, no quantum physics chats here.)

My mom tells stories about little old ladies approaching the pram when I was a baby to give me a cuddle and coochie coo. Apparently, I would stare them down with a glower akin to “fuck off now”. I didn’t have my words yet, but my body language certainly gave them the message loud and clear. As a toddler I’d be quietly playing in my bedroom and listening to records (I LOVED my plastic animal collection and the Beatles) and my mom would come in to check on me. Her account of it is that I’d pull the same face on her that I’d use on the grannies to let her know to not invade my space. I wanted to be alone – I NEEDED to be alone. Luckily my mom was good enough to respect my boundaries and not force me to be something I was not – social.

 In pre-school and kindergarten, I remember feelings of loneliness and isolation. Even at 4 and 5 years old I never felt like I fit in and would hang back rather than join the group. While the other kids were running around the yard and playing in the treehouse (oh, I wanted to be in that treehouse ALL ALONE) I’d be hammering bottlecaps into planks of wood in a vice or playing with the animals. My teacher was Mrs. Smith, and the pre-school was in the basement/ back yard of her home. It was an unconventional yet magical first school experience, and the perfect place for an artsy gal like myself to be introduced to how to think outside the box. She had song birds, chickens, bunnies, an iguana, a de-scented skunk and at one point (unbelievably) a monkey. The monkey didn’t last long.

 Elementary school was OK, I had some friends but I didn’t really start to get over my shyness until early high school. I knew I was a weirdo (good weird) but at 13 being weird is social suicide, so I started figuring out how to hide that part of myself away to appear “normal”. I was becoming more aware of how I was being perceived so I made a concerted effort to be more outgoing.

 Nowadays when I tell people I’m shy and an introvert (you never quite lose those feelings), I’m always met with exclamations of disbelief. I’ve worked so hard over the years to put myself out there and not be as afraid of rejection or failure that even I would consider myself a gregarious and outgoing person now. Does this make me any less authentic? Or did I decide how I wanted to be and train myself to become that? I now embrace my weirdness and know it is my super power. THAT is what makes me authentic, I think. My natural instinct is to still hide away and spend a lot of time alone, but my curiosity about the world and its inhabitants have forced me out of my shell. I visualize myself to be a little hermit crab happily hanging out in her shell. But remember, hermit crabs continuously need new shells as they grow out of their old, cramped ones. I think that is a pretty great metaphor for this shy, crabby introvert.

 So, what does all of this have to do with being authentic? Well, should we ever meet, just know that I will enjoy getting to know you. I’ll ask lots of questions and try really hard not to interrupt (I’m bad for that). Don’t be offended when my authentic self inevitably needs to squirrel away to my shell (home) to play with my plastic animals or happily hammer bottlecaps (insert any creative endeavor here). It’s not you, it’s me. 💜