Sometime around 6th grade, I started to notice my quirks. I had braces and an underbite. I wore animal-printed tights and rain boots to school. I walked differently – slightly turned-out, duck-footed – thanks to my ballet training. Looking back, I find these odd little idiosyncrasies endearing. Back then, it was a different story.
The issue was that I didn’t see my differences as quirks worth loving. I saw them as monstrous cinder-block walls. In my head, every little thing that made me different closed me off from my peers. I wanted to hide my freckles and pasty Irish skin. I didn’t smile often, for fear of showing the glinting racks of orthodontic metal on my teeth.
The resulting feelings that festered inside me twisted my stomach into knots and tied up my tongue (I don’t think I spoke more than ten words a day). What I didn’t realize is that the very fact that I had quirks was the biggest thing I had in common with every other person around me. Every living, breathing person on this earth has quirks – even you, dear reader – and like it or not, we need to talk about them. We need to learn to love them.
The pressure of social conformity is a force difficult to ignore. Its magnetic field grabs us around the waist and tugs on our hair, and it always hits during our times of greatest vulnerability (I’m looking at you, puberty). As human beings, we’re born with an innate desire to belong that, try as we might, we can’t ignore. It’s ingrained in our brains – just ask your anterior cingulate cortex (ACC).
A study published in Science magazine reveals that the same neurological patterns fire in our ACC when we experience physical pain as those that fire when we experience social exclusion. In other words, our brains process both physical and social pain in the same way. It’s no wonder why that dismissive glance from that kid at the neighboring lunch table can feel like a direct punch to the gut.
That being said, we need to find balance. We simply can’t live in a world of paranoia and self-contortion, scared that we’ll never fit in because of the things that make us different. “Fitting in” becomes dangerous when we achieve it at the expense of knowing who we are. Think about it: if you try to jam a key into the wrong lock, you’ll end up disfiguring the metal. If you damage it enough, the key won’t even recognize its own lock anymore.
You are a key. You are unique, you have a purpose, and the key to discovering your purpose is learning to love every part of yourself – quirks included. Trust that your individual design fits in this world, and don’t hurt yourself by trying to squeeze into the wrong lock.
Flaunt your natural assets. Laugh like a maniac. Eat your salad without the dressing. Do all of the things that comprise your wonderful self, and don’t think twice about it. Smudge your unique fingerprint all over the world and step back to admire your handiwork. You’ll open a thousand more doors than you’d ever imagine.
