“You were born to be real. Not to be perfect.”

If I am being 100 percent honest, I don’t remember who it was that told me this. I don’t remember where I was when I heard these words; I couldn’t even tell you what particular obstacle I was struggling with. But in the midst of that trial, and every day since, I have found comfort in these words.

My personality is anything but normal. I have always been the wild, determined, caring, free-spirited girl, but I have my quirks, just like you have yours. I constantly quote movies and songs, and can usually tell what movie or song you are quoting. I always find myself pushing down all the little buttons on fast food drink lids, and go out of my way to kick one specific rock as I walk. When I have a Sharpie in hand, I get the crazy urge to write all over any object in sight, and I twirl my hair when I get nervous or bored. These tiny characteristics make up who I am. They set me apart from anyone else and give me a sense of individuality and comfort.

When I was little, my parents, much like any other parents, told me, “Haley, you can do anything you set your mind to,” and I believed them. I even put that confidence of theirs to test a few times.

One of my favorite stories from my childhood comes from the sneakier side of my 4-year-old self. My parents had told me that I couldn’t have any more Easter candy and to ensure that I didn’t get into it, they hid it in our cookie jar, which was conveniently located on top of our refrigerator. Being the determined girl I am, I began to think of every way I could get into that Easter candy that was way too high for me to reach— even by dragging a chair in front of the fridge. About an hour or so later, I came strolling into the living room, blue marshmallow peep in hand, and evidence of peep number two all over my face. My parents, baffled, asked me where in the world I found it. I took them into the kitchen and pointed to the cookie jar, informing them that I had in fact gotten into the Easter candy they had tried to hide. Unbelieving that their 4-year-old daughter could have possibly gotten up there alone, they asked me to tell them how I got the Peep. Again, I told them I got it from inside the cookie jar. This time, my parents asked me to show them just how their 3-foot tall 4-year-old got to the cookie jar on top of the fridge. I then demonstrated by wrapping my little toes around the knobs of our cabinet drawers, climbing up onto the counter and then to the fridge where the cookie jar was. I believe it was then that my parents realized what they were in for having me as their daughter.

This crazy, determined, creatively sneaky girl grew and changed into a talented, fun-loving, outgoing 10-year-old that seized every opportunity she could to play softball, sing and perform and make new friends. I met my middle school best friend in fifth grade when she moved to my school. Turned out we both really liked jump roping on the playground and our classes had recess at the same time, so naturally, we became fast friends. As our relationship grew and developed we both discovered that we had a lot more in common than we thought. We both loved to sing, and in our middle school talent show we decided to sing the song, “Never Alone” by Barlow Girl together. It was from that point on that I knew that no matter what life threw at us, or how far we may grow apart, this girl would be a forever friend.

As I grew up, and 10 years old turned into 16, life looked quite a bit different. The creative determination found in that 4-year-old and the outgoing confidence that so deeply defined that 10-year-old had all but disappeared. I began to let the "outside world” and what was supposed to be “cool” rule who I was. I took on a new, fake identity fueled by the affirmation of my friends and the older guys at school.

In the process I lost my middle school best friend who I loved dearly, only to replace her with cheap knock-off fair-weather friends who only liked me for the person they thought I was. I put on the facade that my life was absolutely perfect, and nearly tricked myself into believing that lie. I was a cheerleader, part of the “in crowd” and I was catching the attention of the upperclassmen boys. What more could there be to high school life, right? Well, soon after “achieving it all,” I realized that I was becoming someone I didn’t even recognize anymore. I had let the old Haley, the Haley that I knew and loved, fall away.

The constant battle to be seen as “perfect” and desired by others consumed my world. I went to whatever lengths I had to for my “friends” to think I was cool, and to keep that flirty attention from the upperclassmen boys. It was exhausting. The summer after my sophomore year of high school, I attended a Christian retreat for teens called The Awakening. It was then that I learned that I didn’t have to be that person anymore.

Determined to get through the weekend and go back to my “other life,” I sucked it up and went for my parents. I left that Awakening forever changed, with two true, dear, new friends who quickly became like sisters to me in the course of three days. They continue to love me in spite of my failures and celebrate my accomplishments. Lily and Hayden became my dearest friends, and accepted me for exactly who I was.

Whether they know it or not, it is because of them that I went back to Tipton High School for my junior year a changed and reinvented Haley - the Haley I loved. The next summer, serving on a team at that very same retreat, I got to meet two more of my best friends. They quickly became the sisters I never had. They stuck with me through the biggest identity crisis, and largest heartbreak in my life to date, and they loved me through it all. I can confidently say that without Abby and Lydia, I’m not sure where I would be today.

It is so scary to think about how the idea of “perfection” in the eyes of society can change people into some unrecognizable version of themselves. How constantly changing to keep up with what’s “in” can cause such a stumble in character and attitude. As a girl, always having your flaws made public, and trying to desperately fix something that isn’t even wrong, can become so humiliating. It took me a long time to realize that it is OK to be a masterpiece and a work in progress at the same time. Jessie J said it best when she said, “Don’t lose who you are in the blur of the stars. Seeing is deceiving, dreaming is believing. It’s OK not to be OK.” If you’re always trying to fit into society’s idea of perfect, you are never going to find it. It is impossible to compete with photoshop and photo filters. So quit trying!

Find that one quirk that makes you different and celebrate it. Accept that you unintentionally avoid cracks in the sidewalk, or that you are insanely OCD when it comes to notifications on your iPhone. These little traits make you stand out and define you. Honor the fact that you are different. Commend yourself for not being the same as everyone else. Rejoice in yourself for not being normal. Perfection is the disease of this nation. Celebrate your immunity!