Identity Epiphany Served with Pancakes

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February 28th, 2015

Yesterday, over pancakes -that were less of the breakfast variety and more so on the dessert side of meal courses- I had an extremely satisfying conversation with myself that lead to an identity epiphany. As I sat at the dining room table with a steaming cup of black coffee, and two pancakes the size of tectonic plates, drizzled with chocolate sauce and heath pieces (and a banana on the side, to lessen the guilt factor) I started to talk to myself, out-loud.
It all stemmed from one day when I was living in Virginia and I had made french toast on a Saturday morning, just for myself. A neighbor came over and said I was an old-soul because he didn't know "any 18 year old who makes french toast on a Saturday morning, just because they feel like eating french toast."
Here I was, yet again, making myself -and only myself- a decadent breakfast and tossing my persona into the old-soul bin again. I laughed at the thought, because I never do anything to be put into a label, or to come off a certain way. I do things because I have the ability and the desire. I thought about the labels I've been given -self inflicted or externally imposed, the two main titles that stick out above the slew of others are Old-soul and Hippie. I don't take offense to either of these, in fact the names I've been called that I do take offense to didn't even pop into my conversation with myself, because I don't believe they apply to me. I believe I was called them out of anger towards a circumstance or situation where my actions negatively affected someone, and the words might have been true at the time, but they don't stick. I try not to carry other's negative perception of my image. For example: if someone calls me a slut because I did something they deem "slutty" then I look at the action. Was it negatively promiscuous, or did it only rub that person the wrong way? In either case I apologize to the person who was offended by my actions -because whether it was right or wrong, they're still going to believe it to be wrong- and I continue on with the knowledge that I am forgiven by God and that the action doesn't define me as a human being. Getting called a slut does not make you a slut. Calling yourself a slut allows you to act like one. Detaching yourself from negative put-downs and looking pragmatically at the situation allows you to learn from your mistakes.
Anyway, back to pancakes and hippie-dippie old-souls. So, what makes me an old soul? What makes me a hippie? Actions and choices, not clothing and appearances. Yes, the majority of my clothing is secondhand and I would wear my Birkenstocks everyday if life allowed it (barefoot would be preferable though). Yes, I avoid make-up and anything with unpronounceable ingredients like the plague (this includes unnatural deodorant, I know I smell, but that doesn't mean I'm dirty). And yes, I have hair under my arms, on my legs, and everywhere else on my body. Do these appearance-driven things make me a hippie/old-soul? Not entirely. It's not the outer, visual, cosmetic side that give me the labels, but the reasoning behind the choices I make about such things. I choose secondhand clothing because it's cheaper, usually better quality (especially if it's older, things were made with better materials), and has more heart. I choose to skip make-up on most occasions because I don't have the time or interest and I know I'm beautiful without it, I avoid unnatural chemicals because I respect my body and know that I'll feel better when I'm not bogged down by tetrachlorohydrex gly and other toxins. I let my hair grow because I couldn't care less if there's hair on my body and it's way too time consuming to remove it all (I've got ridiculously long legs). Notice how none of my choices have to do with looking the part. Appearance is pretty low on my priority list. The choices I make define my image, not the brand I wear or the cosmetics I use.
Some of the other choices I make that I believe define me as an old-soul/hippie are -but aren't limited to: enjoying the simple pleasures in life, reading in the sun, walking down a tree-lined path, spending quiet time away from technology, hanging clothes out to dry, making breakfast for myself and sitting down to enjoy it without the television, taking my bra off at the end of the day (sometimes my day ends reaallllyyy early), and going to sleep at 8 just because I'm tired. All of these things and more I do because I have the ability and desire. I am not ashamed about any of them. Some people might pity me for eating alone, I love it. Some people might think there are more productive ways to use your time than sitting in the sun and reading, I treasure the relaxation. Some people would think I'm super weird for going to bed at 8, if I'm tired I try to listen to my body and give it what it needs. Shame or fear of judgement doesn't typically play into my reasoning for doing what I do.
I understand that these things may not be very conventional, and that's a-okay with me. I don't want to be a sheeple, trudging through life always following the crowd. I'm all about the search for knowledge and wisdom, that's a path that typically strays from the norm. Often times I dream of the day when I go off the grid and live in a cabin in the woods, reading books all day. However, I know that I would reach a certain point of my life doing that and think, what experiences am I missing, what lessons did I never learn? Would I be in Guatemala, teaching English if I was all about following societies rules? Nope, I'd be in college, overpaying for a "traditional education", and hating every second of it. I'm so blessed to have this opportunity and I can't forget it. I'm exponentially happy that I'm different enough to see and pursue this journey.
I love who I am. Yeah, I've got flaws, rough edges, and scars, but I'm human. I'm also undeniably and unapologetically me, if you can't handle it than I don't need you in my life. People think I'm a hippie/old-soul because I don't care what people think. That's a total lie, though. I believe it's near impossible to not care what people think, it's also extremely unhealthy and self-centered. The real reason I am the way I am is because I don't sacrifice my happiness and enjoyment just because someone might think I'm strange. I am strange, but like I said, I love who I am. Warts and all.

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