Running a Half Marathon and Dealing with Adulthood
Eight years ago, I was so sure of who I was and what I wanted to be. I was proud of being outspoken and blunt, loud, and unapologetic. I wanted to be special, or at least interesting.
I refused to take any interest in make-up, wore baggy clothes, and a “don’t care” attitude. I labelled myself as “weird,” adventurous,” and “blunt,” all in an attempt to create some sort of identity for myself.
When I finally realized the labels I’ve claimed for most of my life didn’t apply to me anymore, I didn’t know how to disassociate myself from that girl who felt disgusted by dresses and bad-mouthed classmates who wore make-up in middle school (sorry Carly). It felt hypocritical to suddenly switch from the girl who refused to shave and conform to societal norms of beauty to being someone who cared about what Ben said about the girl ‘stache on my upper lip.
My need to maintain my identity and not go back on my word kept me from new experiences. Because when you grow-up being confined by your labels, you draw boundaries that others will later use to define you and then, eventually, to box you in.
It was only until three years ago, that I was able to admit, maybe I was wrong…
