I’ve grown up being the designated weird girl. I’m the girl who will slide into the splits waiting for class to get out, say awkward things at awkward times, and get way too excited or upset about little things. I’ve always acted without thinking, said what I felt, and subsequently lost a lot of friendships, because I was simply “too much” for them.

I’ve grown up being the girl everyone expects to be happy and sweet and nice all the time. People ask me regularly, “Are you ever sad?” I’m the first person to smile at someone new, to laugh at a joke even if it isn’t that funny, and to find the bright side in any given situation. I’ve been raised that way: to be kind to everyone, to turn the other cheek, and keep a smile on my face. In a friend group of three I was the optimist- eternally looking for the good in everything and everyone, no matter what anyone said.

I’ve grown up being an anxious girl; a side to me that very few people have seen. There’s been a little voice in my head for as long as I can remember, telling me that I need to stop being who I am in order to make friends, or have a boyfriend, or get a good job; telling me that I’ll never be “enough” for anyone, myself included. I’ve seen a therapist since I was 11, been in eating disorder treatment, and have had to miss school because of debilitating panic attacks. My best friend picked out the quote “The best view comes after the hardest climb” to put on my graduation cap because of how true it rang for each of us, knowing how far I’ve come, especially in the past three years.

I’ve grown up all these girls and so much more. The one girl I haven’t been, in all honesty, is the girl that guys like. Throughout elementary school, middle school, and high school, I’ve watched as my friend group divided into couples, recuperated, and got mixed around again. I’ve watched as my best friend fell in love, and I was always right there with her just in case she ever got hurt. I’ve watched as my sister struggled with the concept of love, since she found she had so much love to give it couldn’t go to just one person. I’ve watched as my parents’ relationship became the one I could always rely on, and the one I would base every potential relationship , real or fantasized, off of. I’ve watched. Besides one very innocent relationship the summer after my sophomore year, I had no prospects of any guy, because who was going to like the weird girl? Or at least, who was going to admit to liking the weird girl? My parents and friends would say the same stereotypical, but very well-meant, reassurances; my personal favorite was “you intimidate boys because you are smart and beautiful and have a strong opinion!” (Though I never really understood why any of that was scary). Even though I wished for someone to talk to differently than how I talked to my friends, snuggle with me, and be someone who would hold me tight when I felt like all the different girls in me were fighting for attention, I was pretty content with giving off the aura of being the strong independent woman who didn’t need a guy to make her feel worthy. I figured eventually, I’d come to believe that about myself. Never mind that I was finishing my senior year of high school without a first kiss; that I was petrified to go to college without any real romantic experience; that I was jealous of my friends and their love-lives. Never mind that truthfully, being an overly trusting and naive person, I had no clue how to behave around guys I was interested in, so as not to get hurt. Being the resident happiest human, I was supposed to be okay with being romantically alone, to keep up the hope that one day that would all change!

And it did change. After last spring, a sudden whirlwind of male interest came my way, and I had no clue how to respond. After years of being the third wheel to any number of couples, it felt like I was finally getting my chance to have a relationship like my parents, sister and friends. Throughout my summer as a camp counselor, I had my first kiss, my first real relationship, and I had guy friends make propositions to me that I acknowledge now were creepy as hell, but at the time were flattering.

I arrived at college, and this continued, yet I still didn’t know how to absorb all of this attention; two months in, and I continue to be pretty much clueless. There are the stares at the bars while I dance with my friends. There are the messages on Tinder, Snapchat, Instagram, and Facebook. There are the catcalls from random cars as I walk to the local ice cream place downtown. There are the guys whose hearts I break and the guys who break mine. To an 18 year old girl who is often more comfortable taking care of kids or playing with my dogs than I am with a peer group my age and species, the past two months have been emotionally exhausting, never mind the added stress from school and work.

At first I loved the attention; for the first time in my life I felt sexy and grown-up and fun! Back home in Connecticut no one ever expected me to be the girl who goes out and dances on the weekends (albeit mostly to take care of my friends) and who flirts with college guys, and it’s been so fun defying those expectations. Now, two months in, I’m just tired.

The attention towards me (at least the attention with potential) has mostly dried up. I find myself often going back to the nagging thoughts I had throughout high school: I’m too overwhelming, I’m not cool enough, I drive people away, I’m not good enough. As I try to fall asleep at night, I find myself desperately trying to slow down the merry-go-round of my thoughts; most nights I fail and don’t end up falling asleep till much later. Logically, I know that I have a great life and no real reason to feel as depressed and scared and sad as I have been lately. The problem with logic is that it doesn’t really matter when anxiety is in the picture. I’ve been pushing myself to feel better. I’ve found coping mechanisms that work, like listening to Hawaiian music and putting lavender oil on my wrists. Every night I meditate through my skin-care routine, and throughout the day I try to do extra things that make me happy.

Still, no matter how hard I try to silence the voice in my head, it’s always there, especially after experiencing my first heartbreak. I know this voice isn’t honest. I know this voice is always present, and that once my heart heals I’ll learn to ignore it again. I also know that there are so many other voices that I could listen to instead: my wonderful friends, here at college and back home, my supportive big sister, who promised she’d be at my door the second I needed anything, my RA’s, full of encouragement, and my mom, only a phone call away (as long as it’s not the middle of the night). I know that there is no problem with me that resulted in this heartache. I know that I am so incredibly loved, and always will be.

The fact I know is most true is that as I figure out who I am here at college, as I figure out how to deal with male attention and rejection, and as I figure out how to keep my feelings in check, I don’t have to be the myriad of girls I have always been, whether everyone expects me to be or not. I don’t have to wear a mask of happiness when I’m feeling sad- I can be honest to myself, not wear a perma-grin for a few days, and accept the hugs and advice and love I am offered. I don’t have to be nice and cooperative at all times- I can stand up for myself if I feel uncomfortable and not be worried about hurting someone’s feelings, or, more likely, bruising their ego. At the same time, I don’t have to change who I am. I can continue to be goofy and silly, laughing in the cafeteria till I can’t breathe and bringing up random fun facts to anyone who will listen.

I can continue to be happy with my life as a whole, optimistic of what’s to come. Most of all though, I definitely don’t have to part with my innermost self. Throughout my life the biggest quality separating me from my peers is my ability to wear my heart on my sleeve- I am open with my emotions and opinions, without an ounce of subtlety in me. This is what truly makes me, me, and what one day a guy will truly love. No matter what the voice in my head says, no matter how any boy makes me feel, I will strive to never lose that.