So I just updated my about me page, and as I was sitting here trying to think about what the heck to write, I realized that even though this is supposed to be a blog where I can be authentic, an about me page doesn’t really follow suit with the idea of authenticity.
This is one of the few places where I can truly be 100% me, and yet, in creating my about page, I found myself combing my brain for what I felt would be a good way to portray myself. I want to present my favorable qualities of course. After all, I want people to find interest in me and my blog so that they keep coming back and keep reading my content. So I decided to keep the about me page with mostly positive and whimsical stuff (which is mostly how I see myself anyway).
Then I decided that maybe I should make an about me blog post. Just another place where I can talk more about myself (because let’s face it, that’s my favorite thing to do). But this about me post is going to be more… well-rounded, with less pictures of me looking happy and excited (although, that’s not a false portrayal of who I am. I’m easily excitable, and I have a pretty positive attitude, but that’s not the whole story), and a little more about what I’m actually like as a person.
So here it goes…
I have anxiety. It’s not a constant swirl of thoughts that I can’t escape like it is for so many people. For me it’s more of an occasional thing. It’s triggered by things like stress, cock roaches, and over-stimulation. Only when my anxiety is triggered does it turn into that incessant spiraling inside my head, tingling in my skin, and twinging in my stomach. And when it does turn into that, it takes a lot of reassurance from my husband, my therapist and my closest confidants to come back out of it. It takes a lot of self-care to keep myself in the safe zone (without anxiety creeping in).
Despite the anxiety, I’m a happy person. I’m smiling probably 75% of the time, I’m very easily excited and I am constantly singing. In fact, very rarely do I actually listen to music in the car because there are always songs stuck in my head. I have a t-shirt that says “my brain is 90% song lyrics,” and I bought it because it’s true.
I am weird as fuck (it’s probably because of the anxiety, but it works for me). People have said those exact words to me before: “you are weird as fuck.” I don’t resent it. I embrace it. People often compare me to mythical creatures like unicorns and mermaids (I am both of those things, and don’t let anyone tell you differently. True story, my spirit animal is actually a mermaid).
I am easily moved to tears. Pretty much everything makes me cry, like the new Beauty and the Beast trailer, homeless dogs, beautiful music, any time a person goes out of their way to be really nice to me, the entire movie Moana, seeing another person cry, when I get angry, when I’m really happy, when I’m sad, when I’m frustrated, when I can’t find words to express how I feel… I cry a lot.
There are like 10 zillion things I wish I could do, like sing (well), draw, paint, sculpt, play guitar, write songs, take beautiful pictures, make movies, play sports, dance, help every person on the planet who needs it… but I can’t do everything, so I stick to what I’m good at: writing, teaching yoga, and helping the people that I can feasibly help. I pick up new hobbies every now and then and stick with them for a while, but there are 2 things I’ve always come back to: writing and yoga. So I figure there must be a reason for that.
I’m sensitive to the world around me. It’s part of being an Empath. I don’t choose to be one, I just am. It’s easy for me to get lost in another person’s feelings, so much so that it becomes difficult to know which feelings are mine and which ones are theirs. I can take on other people’s personalities like a chameleon takes on the color of whatever it’s standing next to. This makes it easy for me to make friends, but sometimes difficult for people to truly see the real me. I don’t do it on purpose. It just happens. And unless I feel really comfortable with someone, they’re probably getting my them version of me as opposed to my me version of me. This is something I’m working on.
All of these things are the reasons why I write. I write because sometimes it’s the only way to get the anxiety out. Sometimes it’s the only way for me to express how I feel. It’s how I create art, and it’s how I deal with all the feelings that I’m constantly taking on. It’s how I sort through things to figure out what’s coming from me, and what’s coming from someone else. I write because I’m weird as fuck. Writing is the easiest way for me to express myself in full authenticity, and when I’m writing, I feel at home.
Photo Credits To: Much Ado About Beatrice