Brittany McGee

I don’t know when exactly it all started, but that’s really not important. I can remember specific instances dating back to fifth grade, and most definitely sixth. I’m not sure why exactly it all started either, but it did.

As a kid, I was fearless. I did my own thing, marched to the beat of my own drum. I had friends that I played with, and imaginary friends for when I wanted to do my own thing. I never had a problem creating games, stories, or adventures. I sang at the top of my lungs and made up songs in the shower. I choreographed dance routines and put on shows. I drew people and colored landscapes. I spent hours reading, getting lost in fantasies and magic. I did things that I enjoyed, regardless of what other people thought. And if no one wanted to do what I was doing, I did it by myself. For Pete’s sake, I LIKED Barney until first grade, way past all of my peers.

But, slowly that changed. At some point, I started caring what other people thought. I stopped liking things because my friends didn’t like those things. I stopped doing things because my friends didn’t do those things. Maybe it started with my boycott of the color pink, or maybe it started when all my friends decided that Britney Spears was no longer cool (and I’m sure now they all think she is again).

Throughout middle school, I continued to mold to fit my friends, or the people whom I wanted to be my friends, and I slowly lost pieces of myself. I dropped friendships, really good friendships, because other people thought that person was weird, or nerdy, or just not cool. I kept secrets about things I really enjoyed. I pretended to only watch certain things, Pokemon and Dragon Ball for example, because my brother had control of the remote (which at one point he even called me out on). I chose clothes based on how many other people had that same shirt, or brand.

I let other people think for me, form my opinions and tell me what should interest me.

It only got worse in high school and college, especially as I began to date and tried to impress various crushes and boyfriends. I let people’s criticisms affect me deeply, and their sometimes “Oh, that’s weird” comments tore me apart.

By the time college ended, I thought I knew who I was. I mean, after you graduate, you’re all of the sudden an adult, and adults have all their sh** figured out, right? But, being an adult only made me realize how insecure I was. How I couldn’t think for myself. How years of conforming to other people’s standards and expectations had left only fragments of who I was, who I am. I had several large break downs over how I had no idea where my life was going and how I wasn’t happy with whom I had become. During these, I would literally talk myself in circles. Only a few people genuinely saw me for whom I had become, a young, confused soul who wasn’t sure of herself. Even with those closest to me, I was only “myself” part of the time because being myself meant being vulnerable, something I wasn’t comfortable with in the least bit. I was bitter and resentful a lot of the time.

I’ve spent the past month trying to think about my biggest takeaway from the last year, my first year in Peru. I kept going back and forth on what I would write about, but then it clicked that there was nothing wrong with being completely honest. And my biggest takeaway from the last year is that I am finding myself once again.

During the last week of training, a third year volunteer came to speak to us. Among many colorful things, he also told us that during our time as Peace Corps Volunteers, we can be anyone that we want to. We can be the town Superhero or Rock Star. We can do things we wouldn’t normally do in the States.

But, I didn’t buy it. I just wanted to be 100% me, for once in 15 years.

And so here I am, learning once again what is important to me. Thinking for myself and forming opinions that are my own. Doing the things that interest me. Prioritizing how I want. Realizing that I’m not everyone’s cup of tea, and that’s okay. Appreciating the time I have in solitude. Really and truly loving myself with all my flaws, imperfections, and weirdness.

This is not to say that the past year has been easy. In fact, it’s been an extremely difficult process, and I still fall victim to “Groupthink” or peer pressure. I’ve had to defend my sometimes “abnormal” behavior and explain the cultural differences. And I’ve had to laugh a lot at myself, which actually isn’t that bad. I’ve experienced deep sadness while reflecting on events where I know I chose the “popular” thing, over what I really wanted. I’ve butted heads with loved ones and distanced myself from others, allowing myself much needed time and space to focus on me. I’ve had to make some tough decisions, and I’ve sometimes struggled to put myself first.

But at the end of a year, I can say this confidently: “I am okay. And I will be okay.” And that has been my first year in Peru.