Welcome to my other blog. I started this one shortly after graduating from the C.I.A, to differentiate between my food and my other thoughts. It's a cozy little place with frequent weird but real, honest thoughts.

There's really not much more to say here, as anything mildly interesting is either down below or written in my Armadillo section above.
Hope you can relate to some of my thoughts and situations, even if they tend to be strange sometimes

Tuesday, May 4, 2010

"But I am this person."

"At a certain part in your life. Probably when too much of it has gone by. You will open your eyes and see yourself for who you are. Especially for everything that made you so different from all the awful normals. And you will say to yourself, "But I am this person." And in that statement, that correction, there will be a kind of love"

I'm lucky to have discovered who I am at a relatively young age. When I was being tortured and ridiculed, things thrown at me, hair pulled, and other things probably blocked out during my horrible middle school years, I had one sliver of hope. One little shred. Knowing I was me. Knowing that this is me. I was so stressed out in middle school over the torture, I was on sleeping pills and had high blood pressure so bad my vision would sometimes blur.
But I kept plowing on, while the emotional scars run deep, I still can't help but be myself, and be okay with it.

 I have NF. It makes me so weird and awkward and talk fast and have this personality of oddness that wants to express, no matter how weird someone thinks I am.

"But I am this person." But I am. But I am me. I tried to be a little different, but that didn't last more than an afterthought. I can't be different. I can try and slow down when I talk, and control my mood and temper, but I can't fix this. I can't fix the girl who wants to sing her sentences, or dance in place, eat Kettle Backyard Barbecue Chips with a drizzle of honey.

I learned by the end of middle school, if someone can't like the crazy, they can't like me. And I stuck with that. Shunning drugs, alcohol, boys, even staying up late. Because it wasn't me. And I didn't want to do that stuff, nor did I want to just to become popular. Seriously, can you see how stupid that reads?

.......It was a very lonely three years, where the only thing that matters is belonging. Acceptance. Cool. I would try and conform; virtual pets on key chains, Gel roller pens, cans of soda with lunch. Honestly? It didn't help. The damage was done. I was hyperactive and strange.

This post comes from watching "Phoebe in Wonderland." about a girl with OCD and Tourettes.  It's such a good movie. The quote at the beginning of this post is from the movie, spoken by Phoebe's teacher for Alice in Wonderland. And I love it.

Because that's how it's been my entire life. I am this person. I was me when I was 6, and head butting people to say "Hello!", I was me in my bucket hat and purple sunglasses phase. I was me when I finally found a friend who was herself also, and we were two wonderfully bunches of laughter and acceptance. I'm still me, at 24. Only now I'm more of a weird, hyperactive adult, who now only occasionally head butts (As a joke. I admit it), with a boyfriend  fiance who not only loves me, but loves my strange, and embraces the weird that is Jenni.

I'm not sure if NF has made me so strange, but it has given me the excuse to say "But I am this person." Like it or not.


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