Inconsistencies: Can't Fit Me in a Box

If you’ve been reading my posts since the beginning, you’re probably somewhat confused—like, “This girl is all deep and insightful.”  But wait, “She’s sort of (definitely) ridiculous.”

Trust me, I’ve been confused about this my whole entire life.  My friends have always considered me thoughtful, insightful, deep, etc.  On the other hand, I’ve always been the one that everyone has laughed at (sometimes with, but let’s be honest, usually at). 

For the last 26 years (or whatever), I’ve been trying to fit myself in a box…almost as if I’ve felt like I had to have this label that perfectly described me.  Like, “the thoughtful one.”  Or, “the fun one,” or “the driven one,” or whatever it may be.

But sometimes I don’t want to be “insightful” or “deep.”  And the thing is, not only do I not always want to be those things, but a lot of the time, I’m actually none of those things.  A lot of the time, I’m straight up ridiculous.  There’s really no other word to describe it, and anyone who knows me would probably agree.  I say the most absurd things.  I over exaggerate almost everything. (See! I totally just did it.)  I overthink and confuse the most common idioms.  I jumble all my words together because I talk too quickly.  I lose my train of thought almost every time I start talking—mostly because my mind starts going in at least two or three different directions (Courtney swears this is classic ADD, but I’m not totally sure what it is yet.  I’m thinking it’s just early onset amnesia...).  And shockingly, I’m a hypochondriac in the most dramatic way possible.  I know this about myself.  Honestly, I sort of love this about myself. 

The truth of the matter is this: I think I’m pretty funny.   

I’m not really a funny person, like, a class clown or anything like that.  I’m not particularly witty.  But I laugh at myself all the time.  I laugh at my own jokes, I laugh at my own mistakes, I laugh at my thought patterns, at my clumsiness, at my awkwardness.  It likely started out as a defense mechanism of some sort (most likely as my only survival tool for fifth grade), but now, I just think I’m funny. 

I love nothing more than egging people on with my wildly absurd questions, like, “Wait, are you sure hawks and crows aren’t the same thing?  I could have sworn those were hawks this whole time.” For the record, Courtney’s response was something like, “Renée, did you go to fifth grade? Hawks are tertiary consumers—they eat the dead crows! How could you not know that?”  Little did she know that I blacked out the vast majority of my social—and apparently academic—experiences from fifth grade.  And also, she's sort of cheating since she actually taught fifth grade.  So it's like she was in the fifth grade fir, like, two whole extra years.  I mean, if I had been able to go back to fifth grade at age 23, I probably would have rocked it too.  So, there's that. 

Still, that insightful, thoughtful, deep side is a real part of who I am.

So basically, I make zero sense to myself. 

Someone once referred to these little idiosyncrasies as “inconsistencies.”  As soon as I heard it described that way, I understood exactly what it meant.  I’ve been struggling with this very thing for years, as I’ve tried to understand and reconcile all of these different—seemingly competing—facets of my personality.

Now, I love inconsistencies.  I have a million of them, and I’ll probably share a bunch more of them in later posts.  I also love finding them in other people.  Most people aren’t even aware of their own inconsistencies, or they don’t really understand the concept at first.  I’m convinced that we all have them, though. 

Even though I’ve begun to embrace my own inconsistencies, I’ll admit that I still find myself trying to put everything together in some sort of neat little package.  I don’t really know why that is, actually.  Maybe I feel like I have to have the “right” label for whatever it is that I want (e.g. approval, acceptance, affection, friendship, success, etc.).  Or maybe I am just trying to make sense of myself for my own sake.  Maybe someday I’ll figure that out.  Or maybe I won’t. 

The moral of the story is this: You can’t fit me in a box, and I like it that way. 

Till next time,

RR

PS: What are YOUR most interesting inconsistencies? (Someday someone is going to answer one of my questions and I’m going to LOVE it.  I know you want to be that person.  And also I have 7 people reading my blog now. And also, the "Post a Comment" feature is maybe still broken.)