I am weird. I grew up weird and I continue to be weird. For the first time in my life I am ok with that. For years, I have said that I am a hippy in disguise. Weird and down to earth on the inside and put together with makeup on the outside. I thought that being in disguise made me more accessible to more people. Where I grew up the people in the organic hemp clothing, smelling of patolli had a certain stigma about them that I did not want. What I discovered was my disguise was really a mask that I could hid behind.
I grew up in a mostly Tibetan Buddhist house hold. In addition to the Buddhism my mother studied with a Lakota medicine man and my older sister practiced the Celtic holidays of our ancestors. I learned early to be careful who I told about my background. When I was six someone told, me I was going to hell because I was not Christian. I retorted “which one”? We have 84 in Buddhism.
In addition to my religious background my mother is and herbalist and energy healer. It was strange enough the herbs but the idea that my mom stuck her hands in other people’s auras was more that I was willing to share. It was not that I was ashamed of what my mom did, she helped a lot of people, it was that I was unwilling to deal with the quizzical looks and questions. It was just easier to not say anything.
When you combine, this wanting to hide and be “normal” with an anxiety condition, you get a really interesting unsettledness. I went through the world with a wealth of knowledge and wanting to hide at the same time. I lived in this world of anxiety trying to hide, to be “normal” all while wanting to use my gifts. As a yoga teacher, my Buddhist upbringing was a huge asset, yet I told almost no one.
I was tired all the time and felt that everything was a struggle. I wanted a house and kids that looked like a movie. With my 180 year, old fixer upper was not possible. I let this obsession with trying to be “normal” rule my life. It dictated my happiness.
Not long ago I got sick. A really bad cold. I had not been that sick in over 10 years. As I was lying in my bed trying not to die, it came to me. I am weird and I love it. I do not know if this was the fever or my 30th birthday looming but I declared that I am done trying to be “normal”. Starting that very moment, I am embracing my weird and going for it. I am going to enjoy and share my weirdness. I am going to be the most genuine, transparent person that I can be. My past is what makes me who I am and I am going to share it. “No other person ever has, or ever will have, the unique blend of talents, strengths, and perspective that you have.” Marie Forleo. That is my gift to the world. Not to sound conceited but by hiding all these years, my gifts and talents I have robed people of what I have, to offer. I have been untrue with why I am on this world.
From now on I will be me. Just me, not some version of me that others want but just me. The best me that I can be. The happiest most genuine me that I can be because I am weird and I love it.