Third Grade

I have felt like a bit of an outsider most of my life.

That is something I haven't openly admitted before, because as a general rule, I never felt that being an outsider was a bad thing. My beliefs, interests, background, genetics, even my flaws set me apart from my peers, but they aren't things to be ashamed of. (Well, maybe some of my flaws.) They are part of my identity, who I am as a person.

But there were moments in my life when I felt otherwise.

Ever since I was little, I have considered myself a social butterfly tomboy, preferring dirt to dresses and the company of boys to girls. In fact, my longest running best friendships have all been with guys. For the first four years of elementary school (that's pre-kindergarten and kindergarten included), there didn't seem to be much division between boys and girls. We were just people and our friendships transcended our genders; I felt I could just be me around people.

Enter third grade. Though it wouldn't surprise me if puberty started for some in second grade, but it was glaringly clear it was happening in third grade for all of us. What felt like suddenly, there was this line drawn in the sand, and it split me in the middle. I was too rough and tumble for the girls, and too fragile for the boys. I couldn't understand why people who treated me as human before now made it seem like I was a freak or fragile.

To add to the onslaught of confusing emotions, 'love' always seemed to be in the air and I was not immune as I fell head over heels for a boy. Calling it a crush would imply it only lasted for a short time; it didn't. I hated those feelings because they contradicted with the already fiercely independent girl persona I encapsulated. Plus, many of the girls attempted to ostracized me even more due to jealously of the attention he gave without me having to change anything about myself.

I think the biggest thing I learned about myself during the whole experience that is third grade was how durable my identity was despite all the pressure to dramatically change. Even though I struggled with all the hurt I felt and dealing with new overwhelming feelings, the person I was at my core persevered and grew.

This isn't to say it didn't change me in other ways. I tend to internalize a lot of my feelings (not the healthiest course of action.) For a big chunk of my public school experience, starting from third grade, outward sadness and hurt equaled vulnerability, which in turn equaled weakness. So, instead, I tended to the side of a don't-mess-with-me attitude as a mask to hide my pain. Actually, I still do that from time to time.

The other big way it changed me was in my friendships. I am a social butterfly to this day, but I don't throw my whole self into my friendships like I did when I was younger. There is only a very special few who get to see all parts of me, most of who is my family. And it comes to my friendships with guys, I stay stuck in my head about how everything I say or do is perceived by others, especially if I am aware they have deeper feelings for me.

So what I can say is this, and this is something I have to remind myself of often. Find the balance of fighting change and not fighting it. There are some aspects of your identity you should want to keep no matter what happens or how old you get. But sometimes you have to change; it is an indication you are maturing and it is not the worst thing in the world to change.