By Adeline Dechaud
Don’t make your scabs too personal.
Actually do. Because that’s how people will get to know you.
D’s masterclass on Friday blew my mind.
We were asked to write on each other’s back what described them the most.
You have to understand and believe that, I’ve lived my whole life not caring about what people thought about me. I truly, genuinely never cared.
During this masterclass I understood that I might actually have cared and sometimes a bit too much.
We were than asked to write about ourselves. On a mirrored paper. To be able to look at this paper again and read the words to feel more confident or whatever.
I started writing. Then stopped. Crossed every word I wrote.
I have been trying to stay positive about everything since I got into sca (read previous scabs). So when I started writing about myself, it was going against every of my new principles.
Literally made me cry (yes, had to leave the room and everything poor cute me).
Then I understood, we don’t cry because we’re angry, we don’t cry because we’re sad, or happy and laughing. We cry when we lose control.
I lost control when I read all the things my classmates – people who don’t know a single thing about my past but know me the way I really am (because I don’t bullshit ya know) – wrote about me.
Not only not a single thing was negative, but everything, everything was what I deeply hoped I was. What I am fighting for to become and be.
I am not that cold hearted b@tch people (apart from the real MVPs my best friends are) back home think I am.
I am not that weird weirdo who dances all the time, laughs about everything, jumps all over the place when she sees a dog, tells people who are cute they’re cute when they are, nobody understands.
To my classmates, I am:
- a thinker
- Funky fresh (ya man)
- Inspiring (whoever wrote that, mate you made my day)
- I have sex appeal (really?)
- Energetic (Yeah, too much sometimes)
And these words… these words even though they might have been written in a nice and non serious way were just what this not confident and ashamed Vandale needed to read. These words made her understand that she actually does care.
And it’s okay, because that’s who I am. I don’t have to hide who I am, because of my past or the way I was raised. I am like this, and this is my new start, being who I am, and the way people see me doesn’t matter (okay, it does when it comes to my future employer) ((maybe)).
Take me the way I am, or just don’t, somebody else will.
I am slowly becoming aware that, everything I want to be, I actually am.