I Cherish the Day I Labeled Myself a Weirdo

I’ve often read that when we feel ill-at-ease or uncomfortable with people’s behavior, it’s because we don’t accept that very same thing about ourselves.

As a pure product molded from society, I’ve often judged people when they dressed differently; Tattoos, piercings, flashy colors and sparkling nails, ripped clothes, etc. I loved to observe them. At some point, I had to look away so they wouldn’t feel uncomfortable or surprised by me staring at them.

Then I wondered: “Do they even feel uncomfortable?”

I’ve often felt the urge — but never dared — to talk to one of them. I wanted to understand what was hiding behind their “style”.

Why had they made those choices?

What had happened in their past?

Were they going against society’s main codes on purpose and for what reason?

Was it rebellion?

And at that point, it was exclusively appearance.

I couldn’t figure out how anyone could feel at ease being so different until I met someone who changed the way I see those people.

And how I see myself.

. . .

His differentness immediately intrigued me when we met, one year ago.

He never went unnoticed; he would often wear unmatched flashy colors, had a mustache and a beard, would kindly yell to uncautious pedestrians instead of using his bike bell, or use uncommon expressions to say goodbye. It seemed weird at first, but it was in fact very well thought out.

The guy was smart.

I had wondered once or twice “what kind of man can be hiding behind this mysterious character?”

We had never exchanged more than hellos, but I could tell he was unwaveringly kind. He would always bring good energy to the office, along with smiles. I didn’t know him much, and yet I had always felt joyful and at ease around him.

From one thing to another, we ended up bonding pretty well and started hanging out more.

The more we talked about his past experiences and the way he saw life, the more I began to see him as a “normal” person; with his struggles, daily concerns, and existential questions. Then came talks about acceptance and rejection.

. . .

misfit

/ˈmɪsfɪt/

noun

1. a person whose behavior or attitude sets them apart from others in an uncomfortably conspicuous way.

2. something that does not fit or that fits badly.

Synonyms : weirdo, non-conformist, deviant, outsider, freak, kook.

I wouldn’t say that this definition accurately describes him. No definition would, nor would any other “label”. It would be unrealistic to even try to mold him to fit into one.

At that point, I believe he doesn’t give much attention to whether or not he’s accepted, if he belongs, or is appreciated. He just wants to live in a way that makes him happy, regardless of what people think about him.

I started reading The Four Agreements by Don Miguel Ruiz, shortly after our first talks. I tried to imagine how hard it must be to make abstractions of people’s opinions when we’ve always reacted to them. He was successfully applying the second of them: Don’t take anything personally.

“Nothing others do is because of you. What others say and do is a projection of their own reality, their own dream. When you are immune to the opinions and actions of others, you won’t be the victim of needless suffering.”

That’s when it struck me.

His differentness resides in the way he reacts to normal people’s behavior towards him.

He doesn’t react;

He doesn’t give a f***.

. . .

One day, we talked about tattoos we’d like to get.

He said: “I want to tattoo a huge “WEIRDO” on my throat”.

I felt a bit disturbed because he looked very confident and pretty comfortable with this wonderful idea — but after all, it’s his throat, not mine.

As a native French speaker, I had heard about the word “weirdo” before, but I wasn’t familiar with its meaning. I thought I’d find the most accurate explanations on Urban Dictionary, and I was right:

A non-conformist who does not follow trends or a subculture. A true “weirdo” will just do what they feel and can get along with most people. This person does not actually conform to a stereotype and shouldn’t be labeled.
Someone who is different from everybody else, but that’s okay because they’re being themselves and they aren’t like the fake bitches you see these days.

As I kept reading, I noticed that I was defined on every page of the “weirdo” section of Urban Dictionary.

I felt as if someone had published the unraveled part of my personality.

The part I struggle to love and cherish because it doesn’t fit.

The part that would put people ill-at-ease if they saw me behave like this or wear that outfit.

The part I have never been able to show the world because it was too flashy, too loud or too unlabelled.

The part I’ve always had to mute or turn down because I was too ashamed of in public when it was just “me”.

The part that made me feel angry at myself because I wasn’t like everybody else.

The part that made me angry because I didn’t fit in.

The best parts of who I am.

. . .

Just like him, I had always felt different — and flashy.

A few weeks ago, I still felt like I was an imposter because I was trying to belong where I would never fit.

How do you define yourself when you’ve been assaulted by codes, guidelines, and traditional education since your tender childhood? Is there a special way to go when you still don’t feel like anybody else, and people make you feel like you don’t belong after 32 years?

To suffer is one way to go. To acknowledge is the first step towards acceptance. To accept that you’ll never belong to the normal world is a progression in the process of freedom. Creating the world that’s made for you and cohabiting with them without paying attention is the ultimate winning move towards the right mindset.

Thanks to him, I finally realize how much I’ve been the person people expect me to be. And not only society: family, friends, almost everyone. I’m acting to please them, instead of being a most unique and authentic character: myself.

. . .

We had been hanging out for a few days, and that proud and inspiring weirdo had used the perfect words to initiate a shift and heal some of my all-time struggles.

He didn’t use the common self-help lexicon like “self-love”, “positive body image” or “being enough”. That man expressed how he felt about me by saying what nobody had ever told me before: “I like the whole you.”

He added: “What I like in people is their differentness.”

His words resonated loudly and found immediate meaning.

Every preconceived idea injected by society since my youngest age had flown away; my differences were my strengths and not my weaknesses.

What I thought to have done the wrong way for all those years was nothing but a different way to do things.

I was not wrong.

I was different.

We tend to forget — or ignore — that we have the right to love ourselves unconditionally and to act according to our wants, as long as we respect others.

After years of struggle about trying to find and assume my original identity, that man had allowed my favorite self to get out of the closet. I was ready to show the world that I was free to be who I am, no matter what they think.

I was finally coming out.

My attitude is starting to shift when I am around him: no filter, no hiding, no shame of anything. I’m being, not acting. I don’t fear being judged nor do I judge him — nor anyone else anymore. I learn from him and I open my mind, step by step.

I feel like have found the direction to the “letting go” golden path.

. . .

What if “normal people” were the actual weirdos?

Another definition for weirdo from Urban Dictionary is: “Someone who is themselves around another weirdo”.

I believe this should be our ultimate goal: be the person we want to be.

“Weirdo” appears to be the most un-label-able label. I believe that if every label created by society were to disappear, the weirdo label would triumph and become the most popular.

In the end, it’s not about being normal, weirdo, or accepted. What matters is that we feel good about who we are.

Here’s a reflection for those struggling with their personality or those who don’t feel accepted:

Do you prefer to spend the rest of your life wearing a mask, only to have a chance to fit in a box and please society?

Or do you prefer to have fun living the life you’ve always wanted, whether or not people accept it?

What about pleasing you first?

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This post was previously published on Change Becomes You.

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