The moment I realized that finding a label for every area in my life was more damaging to my health than healing, I decided to stop.
And in that same moment, I felt a huge weight lift off my spirit that I had no idea was even there.
I had this silly notion that finding the perfect label for myself would help me validate myself to other people and communities.
It would help people immediately understand me, so that way I wouldn’t have to waste so much precious energy explaining myself to them and, in return, defending myself like I’ve spent years doing.
I was just so. damn. tired. of defending who I am.
It’s hard being different. Not fitting into the mold. Being part of communities where people don’t understand anything that’s not cookie-cutter. And oftentimes, are critical of the non-cookie-cutter. Sometimes to the point of outcasting those different-shaped cookies.
This is all something I’ve been thinking about for a long, long time. And I’ve realized that sometimes, people are curious and want to learn about the Different. That my Different-ness isn’t something that makes me less valid as a person.
Maybe my Different-ness will inspire someone to wake up to the fact that they, too, aren’t a cookie-cutter.
Maybe I should be less defensive. More open.
The people who love me truly will love me. The core of me.
Last night, after years of searching for the perfect labels, I’ve decided to stop labeling myself.
My faith. My blood. My personality. My gender. My sexuality. My style. My genre of writing and art. (Though, having a label for that would make life easier.)