I used to be a chameleon.
Throughout my life, I’ve always feared rejection and judgment. I could never accept that sometimes people would disagree with me, or even dislike me.
So I morphed into something people would like.
I used to change how I presented myself based on who I was interacting with, simply to avoid rejection even if it meant sacrificing my own interests. For some reason, I thought if I was different, then I couldn’t experience love and acceptance.
Over time, I became quite skilled at camouflaging. It felt like a game of pretend, the same game we all loved as kids. Only I never broke my character.
I eventually got so caught up in creating different characters for different audiences that I nearly lost sight of the original. I almost lost myself.
It wasn’t until the end of eighth grade that I finally gained a tiny sliver of confidence, just enough to attempt being myself for once.
I realized I was still so young and had so much time to fine-tune the little details in my life. I was “too young” to be worried about these things. So I tried to simply enjoy the little things in life while I could.
I started experimenting with my style and branching out to new hobbies and interests. I was so excited to try new things.
Through this journey of finding myself, I discovered a love for ties. My mom took me to Goodwill to find all sorts of fun patterns and styles. I couldn’t wait to wear them.
One day, I wore a tie to school for the first time. I was confident in my new style. Was it tacky? Absolutely. But I was happy for once, and that’s all that mattered.
That confidence lasted maybe an hour.
When I got to school that day, a boy had strong opinions about a girl wearing a tie. Apparently, ties exclusively belong to boys.
“If you want to be a boy, just say that.”
Suddenly, I was a chameleon again.
I watched all the progress I made fly out the window. I was back at square one. It felt like I was being forced to suffer the consequences of being myself.
I never truly understood why being myself seemed so controversial. Situations like that always reminded me why I used camouflage as a safety blanket.
Finally, I folded that blanket and placed it in the donation pile.
I realized the so-called consequences of being myself were entirely self-imposed. I realized things didn’t have to be this way. If I wanted to be a free spirit, I was well within my rights to be one.
I didn’t want to change anymore.
I think what finally gave me that lightbulb moment was finding my creative outlet: writing.
When I wrote, I could make up my own story and create my own characters. I had the freedom to make my characters into anything I wanted them to be. An artist, a lawyer, a student. Anything.
I found that freedom in my own life, too. Just like with my characters, I realized I could make myself into anything I wanted to be. An artist, a lawyer, a student.
Or a journalist.
In a way, a journalist is similar to a creative writer, except we tell stories about people in the real world, authentic people who are who they are.
It’s fascinating to go out into the world and find interesting people with stories to share. In fact, the more people I talk to and the more interviews I do, the more I realize that we all share one thing in common.
No matter where you are in life, how successful you think you are, what struggles you had along the way, you will never truly have everything figured out. But you will always have a story to tell.
That’s what keeps me going.
If I found myself through my love for writing, maybe I can share that with the rest of the world.
Honestly, we are all chameleons. Sometimes, all it takes is that one story to remind us that even chameleons return to their true colors at the end of the day.
