Why I Am Different, and I’m Pretty Sure That’s a Good Thing

Someone I thought was a friend once described me as “different.”

She meant it in a negative way.

And it used to bother me.

But now I think that it’s a good thing.

Because I am different.

Why I Am Different, and I’m Pretty Sure That’s a Good Thing

I feel things deeply.

I take things seriously.

I’ve been through many trials in my four decades on this Earth.

I’ve experienced a lot of grief and loss.

I’ve seen a lot of heartache and trauma.

I am different.

I am nostalgic.

I cherish old things.

I am passionate about family history.

I collect antiques.

I practice traditions.

I am different.

I am emotional.

I am sensitive.

I am empathic.

I am open.

I am different.

I talk openly about mental health.

I talk openly about grief and death.

I talk openly about dementia and hospice and funerals.

I talk openly about faith and religion and culture.

I talk openly about anxiety and depression.

I talk openly about miscarriage and uterine fibroids and hysterectomy.

I am different.

I am real.

I am honest.

I am raw.

I am vulnerable.

I am different.

And I’m pretty sure that’s a good thing.