So what I like to do is unpack all my heavy shit right off the bat. No surprises. I am not the girl who drinks fruity drinks and flirts casually and tumbles home and falls right to sleep without a care in the world. I am the girl who consumes dark, gritty, graphic content. I am the girl who will ask you how many people you've murdered when we meet in a bar (to be fair...he WAS a double Gemini). I am the girl who goes into her closet and pulls out all the baggage so you can see it before you realize too late that I'm not the girl for you.
I used to worry about that. I used to think I was too much. Too intense.
I learned at 9 years old that I needed to shrink myself. I remember it like it happened this morning. I was in 4th grade. I had cut my hair short like Kelly Kapowski in the college years of Saved by the Bell. I liked the clothes I wore. I played make believe and rode my bike for hours without a care in the world. Then the school talent show rolled around. I was always a performer. I loved being the center of attention and entertaining anyone who could still still for longer than 2 minutes. I pulled out costumes and Madonna cassette tapes and my best choreography learned from VH1 music videos (MTV was not allowed). So when two of the most popular girls in 4th grade (and in my neighborhood) asked me to perform in the talent show with them I knew this was the moment I had trained for. I was ready. There were two conditions to my invitation remaining valid
1. I needed to try at let my hair grow because it was way too short to be girly
2. I needed to lose 10 pounds.
That was the first time I went home, looked in the mirror and had any whisperings of anything being wrong or different about me.
Nine years old and trying to figure out how to shrink. Now I was too loud. Too big. Too different.
I think back to that moment and didn't understand how pivotal it was in shaping the next, almost 20 years of my life. From then on I was dedicated to being the most perfect I could be. Something about trying to be perfect though is that you will always fail. So I would fail. I would not lose 10 pounds in 2 weeks at the age of 9, my hair would still be short, I would not be the star of the talent show. So I pinched my skin in the mirror so hard it would leave bruises trying to force my imperfection away. I would lay in bed praying to be skinny or pretty. I lost all control when my perfect outfit hadn't been washed and I had to wear something I knew those girls would find a problem with and would scream and cry and refuse to go to school. I stopped playing with my less popular friends even though I had the most fun with them. I changed my entire personality. I was no longer the loud performer. I was quiet. Agreeable. Afraid to cause waves. As a teenager another popular girl I so desperately wanted to like me asked if I liked Britney Spears or Christina Aguilera better. My obvious choice was Britney. "Um....well I don't really know...." I stammered. "Britney Spears is a slut" she retorted. "Yeah totally" I agreed. An opinion so inconsequential caused me almost panic because I was so afraid of my own feelings, thoughts, and opinions. I had shrunk myself down to the tiniest of cages in hopes of acceptance.
The first time I made a "controversial" Facebook post I was about 25 years old. Babies had just been gunned down in their kindergarten class. My post started "I'm so sorry about this post" "I know some people will hate me" "I understand if you want to unfriend me". Shrinking myself back down into my good little girl cage. Don't be seen. Don't be heard. Don't make anyone upset. Apologize for your feelings. Beg them not to notice your faults. Become so small you don't take up any space or exist at all.
Glennon Doyle talks about this in her book "Untamed" (which if you're a woman and have not read - leave this right now, go, I will give you my Amazon account info). She talks about taking her kids to a safari and the animal keepers introducing them to a cheetah who thought she was a dog. She was trained with a dog and learned to act like a dog. To blindly chase after a small reward because that's what she had been trained to do. She had no idea that if she remembered her wildness for 5 seconds she could tear the animal keeper to pieces and run off into the wild. She had power. Because she was not a dog. She was a goddamn cheetah.
I started remembering my wildness when I started nursing school. Suddenly, passion had been restored to my life..and I was good at it. It made sense to me. It clicked with me. I came alive again. I started to embrace my wildness. I was ok being the one who spoke up in class. I made jokes instead of waiting for some guy to make a more lame joke and have people think he was hilarious and amazing. I answered questions. I challenged myself. I was unafraid of being wrong. I was unafraid of being seen.
I had found the loose wire in the cage keeping me non-existent. I became wild again. I was a goddamn cheetah.
I graduated with honors. I got a grown up nurse job. I advocated for patients. I spoke up for myself. I stopped apologizing for my feelings. I let myself voice my opinions. I embraced the space I took up. I didn't pinch imperfections in the mirror because I no longer saw imperfections in the mirror. I saw me. I saw my thin hair I used to hate and thought of my aunt who has always had thin hair too and seems to be doing just fine. I saw my eyes which have always been my favorite feature. My nose with the deviated septum just like my dad and my brother. I would hear my loud laugh and remember my grandma. I was walking history and ancestry. I was strength. I was power. I was a goddamn cheetah.
I have now made it 30ish years and have become my own hero. The hero I so desperately needed at 9 years old. A hero to whisper - "You are not a dog, do not let them put you in that small cage of nothingness. You are memories. You are your parents biggest wish come to life....you are a goddamn cheetah."
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