I Am Weird
“In nature, nothing is perfect and everything is perfect. Trees can be contorted, bent in weird ways, and they’re still beautiful.”
Alice Walker, author, poet, activist
I have a weird bent – a shadow side. Example; I’m infatuated with cupcakes – vanilla ones specifically. They’re like a secret lover. When I break down and buy them, I feel like I just bought crack from the neighbourhood dealer – in this case, Three Bakers and A Bike who, hands-down, make the best icing on the face of any planet. When I bring cupcakes home I hide them, sometimes out of shame, but mostly because I don’t want to share them. They mean that much to me. They mean too much to me.
There is still a weird little girl inside me who stresses about getting her fair share, who is anxiety ridden at the thought of picking a bedroom in a reality TV mansion based purely on who gets to the bed first. She’s petty, foolish, judgmental and slightly ridiculous. When she eats too many cupcakes, she feels more deeply disturbed than a cupcake ought to make a person feel.
I’m not sure anyone would relate to this shadowy slice of my psyche so I keep her wrapped in layers of what I imagine people would prefer — someone less sugar-obsessed for starters, someone more mature, someone more grounded. But in veiling my shadow side, I risk playing it safe and losing myself. I risk living my life half-heartedly, because truth be told, she is actually quite wonderful.
She’s the one who likes to dance with the dog. She’s the one who talks to herself when she’s alone, often in a British accent. She’s the one who’s been listening to the same twenty songs for what seems like a decade. She’s the one who is afraid she might be old, but still feels so damn young. She’s the one who gets bummed out by the fact that she might not ever get her shit together in time, but she’s not even sure what “in time” really means. She loves to wallow in self pity and could care less about being grateful or evolved or empowered or some other self-help-yada-yada. She’s the tough one, the angry one, the self-absorbed one.
She is part of me, but not all of me. She is my inner weirdo — my crazy bit that lurks in the shadows scratching at the padded door of my soul.
Do we all have these deeper and darker selves that are far from perfect and somewhat pitiful? Probably, but I can’t be certain and she doesn’t care. Because it’s my inner weirdo who has become my creative muse and it’s her who has stormed onto the pages of my novel as a full-blown character, at once despicable and lovable. And yes, she adores cupcakes just a little too much. She is my shadow. She is my light and in my imagination she has come into her own as the spirited young woman at the heart of my book.
She is where momentum lives.