The Labels We Wear

It's inevitable. We all judge each other, we all secretly think somewhat negative, critical thoughts about behaviors and choices that our loved ones make, and we also all label each other. In high school, I worked hard in the drama department and was therefore written off to a lot of my peers as a "drama geek." That was code for in a clique, weird as hell, and untouchable. I think it's why I have such a complex about labels at all: political views, religions, hair color, nationality--what does it all matter? Even if I'm the blondest blonde, the strictest Christian, the whitest cracker, or as liberal as Barbra Streisand is Jewish... It's all just parts of me.

There are some labels that terrify me, ones I know I conjure occasionally. I can see in my family's eyes the moment they think of me as:

Lazy

Drama queen

Quitter

Failure

Burden

Frustrating

Depressing to be around

Pathetic

Childish

Helpless

Like I said, there are moments when I see these thoughts flash across the faces of the people I love, and all I can say is, I'm so sorry. I have expectations for myself, too, and I know I don't always reach them.

I just crave the moments when the other labels are reflected. These are the ones I crave to have apply to me:

Creative

Capable

Brave

Lighthearted

Mature

A fighter

Hard worker

Productive

Brave, brave, brave, brave, brave

Because every day I wake up scared. Living is frightning sometimes. And to even dare to brush my teeth... that takes courage.