The House

I was driving to meet a date a few nights ago, and while following GPS realized I would be a few blocks from the house where the worst of it happened. I was early so I decided to drive and look at it. If you'd asked me to describe it I would have said it was a steely blue, dark, ominous and gloomy. I'm sure the sun shown many a day when we lived there, but even if it did it never seemed to permeate the other darkness surrounding it. 

I pulled up at dusk with the sun setting and their lights starting to turn off. They didn't have window coverings hiding anything so I could see into the living room where a light shown brightly. I looked up to the top window where my room was. It was dark but I didn't sense the desperation and sadness that I felt when I'd look out. It wasn't the house of horrors in my head. It was a cute little house where a family appeared to live a happy life. Perception is everything.

I was looking around my own place today and reminding myself that I owned it and did all this completely by myself. I don't have a showplace by any means; there are bright colors of red and yellow everywhere, my style is eclectic and even eccentric, and it's a bit ticky tacky odd but it's me. I worked hard on it today and decided I'm going to go even farther with my creative (outlandish) ideas and stop making feeble attempts to fit into the mold that society thinks I should be in. 

It's hard though. I love my space yet I see some gorgeous new home with all the special features, the neutral colors, the minimalist vibe, and I find I hang my head and feel ridiculous. Yet ridiculous is who I am. It's who I was born to be. I've never liked mainstream shit, I've always been a little "off", a little loud, a little obnoxious, a ton of not fitting in. 

I would have thought by this age that this internal battle would be done. That I could own who I am without feeling the shame of being different. I'm fighting this with everything in me. I fight it when I paint a wall a color that others would find too much. I fight it when I don't "act my age". I fight it when I go against what they tell me to do. I've always related to women like Betsey Johnson and Cyndi Lauper more than Coco Channel and Anna Wintour.

What's actually helped is being invited to a Facebook group called "I'm high on DIY decor". So most everyone is high AF and decorating. I'm seeing designs and ideas that I've wanted to do but felt it wasn't allowed. I'm seeing rooms that I'd love that most would find hysterical and distasteful. I'm seeing I'm not alone.

My home is fully my own. It's only me and Teddy and we do what we want. Though I still look outside to make sure I'm safe, I do know I'm OK. Maybe one day I'll ultimately give zero fucks and step completely into who I am.