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As I grew up, my mom always told me I was special. I knew she was right. I was a wild child. I talked to anyone who looked at me, I did whatever it took to make my friends laugh and if my parents or teachers gave me an assignment I didn’t find appealing, I refused to do it.
And every year, my mom and dad would get the voicemail they dreaded: “This message is for the loving parents of Ms. Mechley. (Insert current teacher’s name) would like to sit down with you at your earliest convenience to discuss your daughter’s behavior in the classroom.” Whenever my mother received these calls, she screamed my full name loud enough to resonate up the stairs. I always scurried down and found her hands clasped in a fist while the veins on her head popped.
“What did you do at school?” my mother spewed.
“Mom nothing, they just don’t like me,” was always my go-to response.
And it was true.
At a young age, I was taught to respect authority – which I did, to an extent. However, if those “authority figures” had no logic behind their demands, I questioned them. My teachers, naturally, were not huge fans.
In first grade, I refused to sit in boy/girl order because I believed that “we are all equals.” In sixth grade, I would constantly berate my teacher with, “I’m going to be a journalist, so why should I waste time learning how to calculate force?”
I wasn’t a bad kid, though. I didn’t cause disturbances and I never hurt anyone at school, but still I was labeled a “problem child.” My mom always came home from the meetings saying that she had “fixed the problem,” and that I just needed to keep my mouth shut. As I grew older, I realized that the best way to avoid my mother grounding me was to keep my thoughts to myself.
In high school, I attended a prestigious, religious school with nuns, uniforms and no-makeup. I had been practicing my “keep your mouth shut” ways for about three years, but I finally decided that had to change. I walked into orientation and our principal made a speech about our individuality and how we should never be ashamed of that. Those words of wisdom were all I needed. I realized that being a “mature adult” was appropriate in certain situations, but that I should never let it control the person I am.
Some people are shy, some are “business all the time,” some like to play sports and some like to sing on stage. I realized that I didn’t really fit into any of those molds. I gave up being the person that I thought my parents wanted me to be, and instead became an authentic version of myself.
I cracked jokes again, I poked fun at teachers and I stood up for my beliefs. But most importantly, I never overstepped, so I was respected. I had found the person that I had always been and I was finally happy.
Today, I work for an online women’s magazine, but I’m different from the other females here. I think politics are boring and I have never really understood how anyone can find relaxation in a book. But I don’t judge others.
I’m pretty sure my boss thinks I’m a lose cannon – and she’s probably right – but she respects me and the work I do, and that’s all that matters. There’s a time to be an woman who works a nine to five and brings home the bacon, and there’s a time to eat a Lunchables meal in front of your boss while you laugh at her reaction to your processed junk.
I don’t conform to what others expect of a 21-year-old white girl because I am not living my life for them. I live life for me, to make myself happy. You should too.
Be your authentic self. If someone doesn’t like it, then don’t be around them. Be the person you are and never apologize. It’s not easy, but there is no better feeling than laying your head on the pillow at the end of the day and knowing that you love the woman you have become.
