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  • Writer's picturemarikenney

Crisis of Personality.

At this moment in my life, I'm going through a crisis of personality. It's strange, it's exhilarating, and it's needed.

Our move was the catalyst for this catastrophe of temperament. Moving from the Deep South to the Pacific North West did a number on my spirit (in a good way), and right now I'm trying to put all my pieces back together to create a clearer picture of who I am.

It's been hard. It's been fun. It's been a battle.

When you live in a place like Mississippi for so long, you can't help but be affected by the rules and structures of the culture, and Mississippi has some pretty strict rules.

Don't get me wrong, I experienced some beautiful, joy filled moments while living there, but I never fully felt like I fit in. I always felt off. Like I never truly belonged, but as a people pleaser, I so desperately wanted to belong, so I molded myself to be "normal". I didn't want to be labeled as weird. Being weird in the South wasn't exactly celebrated.

Nor being an overly opinionated woman.

So I became quiet. I would sit back and let my male peers do all the talking and the leading, because God made them the head and women the submissive "help mate". I hate that term "help mate" - like f**k off right now with your outdated bullsh*t. I also started to question my own decision making abilities. I became unsure. I became helpless. I was taught that I was half of a whole and couldn't function without someone else there to guide my hand. I became like a child. And I became angry.

I thought it was my fault I wasn't happy. I thought this anger was coming from a place of darkness, because women were supposed to act a certain way, and if I couldn't then maybe I wasn't really a woman. I'm mad at myself for wasting so much of my time thinking this way.

Even when I pulled away from this way of thinking, I still carried around this soft, sweetness, and I find myself falling back into that submissive nature in conversations now. I'm quiet when I don't want to be quiet. I bite my tongue, afraid of what others might think. But inside of me, fighting that submissiveness is a chain-smoking, cursing, bear of a woman who wants to fight, bite and punch. She's rowdy. She's wild. She's been dormant for way too long. And she's hungry.

But I know I can't let her out just yet.

I'm trying to find a good balance for myself, so I don't go balls to the walls - but part of me thinks I should. Just go all out - be loud, be rowdy, be me.

I'm trying everyday to figure out who that person is. I can say that she will be louder. She will be rowdier. She will be wild.

Fingers crossed.

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