Breaking the Rules to Become Myself

Finding myself in the rebellion I tried so hard to bury.

Remember being 13, 14, 15 years old not knowing who you were or where you belonged? 

I do. I remember constantly wondering what was wrong with me or what I did to make people dislike me or what to do about it. I felt completely and utterly alone, yet completely and utterly surrounded at the same time. I was surrounded by judgement, fake people, and a world I desperately wanted to be a part of, but couldn’t understand. 

Why was everyone so obsessed with the opposite sex? Why was everyone wasting their time talking about their so-called friends behind their backs? Why did these girls starve themselves just so a boy might notice them?

Not being able to understand was exhausting. It became a weight I couldn’t carry anymore. I was just too tired. 

So, I started to rebel. 

Not in big ways. 

Not even in bad ways. 

I stopped trying to fit the part. I got so tired of pretending to be everything I was supposed to be that I started pushing back and making choices that didn’t line up with the “good girl” I was expected to be. 

My best friend was four years older than me, a college freshman with a 3 year-old son. 

My boyfriend was on his way to becoming the town drunk. 

And if I wasn’t in school, I was probably out partying in a field somewhere. 

But that’s not what my parents, teachers, or community saw. They saw an all-American  “good girl.” I was a straight-A student who had a job, or two. I was a responsible, respectful young lady who had a bright future ahead of her and never got into trouble. On the outside I was quiet and reserved, I spoke only when spoken to and I always agreed and supported the opinions of everyone else instead of sharing mine.

Eventually, the good girl won. It became easier to fit in instead of just pretending to. Being quiet was easier than actually having an opinion. The rebel fire was being suffocated until the flame finally went out. 

For a decade I kept my head down. I did as I was told, thought what I was told to think, and acted how I was supposed to act. I played the roles of the good girl, doting wife, loving mother, supportive sister, and understanding daughter. I played them well, but every night I cried into my pillow. I would sit in my car and punch the steering wheel and scream. I threw things and hit walls. 

And I cried. Why could I not just be normal? Why could I not just be loved? 

I cried because I was crying. I didn’t deserve to cry and I definitely didn’t deserve to feel bad. I had everything - a house, a husband, a baby. I was supposed to be happy. I should be happy. So I cried more. 

But, I wasn’t crying because of any of that. I was crying because I was lying to myself and to everyone around me about who I was. I was the rebel that I tried so hard to hide and now I couldn’t find her. I was crying because I was grieving myself. I was grieving the me that I buried so many years ago, but never truly acknowledged. But I didn’t want to grieve for her. I wanted to BE her. The flame had gone out, but the embers were still burning. 

So, bit by bit I started peeling back the masks and rewriting the roles. I stopped doing things just because that’s what I was expected to do and started doing things that fed my fire. 

There were good days and bad. There were ups and downs and curves and sometimes circles. I took a few steps forward and then a giant leap back. It was messy, it was chaotic, and, at times, it was completely overwhelming. With every step I was getting closer and closer to igniting until finally the sparks caught and my love for myself started to burn.

I don’t regret becoming a good girl. I needed to become her so I could figure out what wasn’t me. She let me narrow the field by showing me the pain I no longer wanted to endure. The pain of the expectations that were never mine to carry. 

I don’t regret it because I walked away with a lesson. It’s simple, in theory: pain lies in inauthenticity. When you are able to live your life in a way that is authentic to you, you will experience peace. And once you experience peace, you learn that pain is something you get to choose to endure or choose to overcome. You realize that you always had a choice and you become grateful that you’re able to make the choice now.

Every experience, every interaction became an intentional choice because I never want to feel that pain again. More than that, I don’t want anyone else to feel that pain. So I stand up, I speak up, and I use my voice in hopes of making a difference in just one life.