As a child, I was fascinated with chameleons. I thought it was so neat that they could change colors to adapt to their environment. When I got older, I realized that I had spent many years acting as a chameleon: changing my colors when I needed to fit in with certain people, longing for acceptance among my peers.
I know I am not alone in saying this. I am sure many of us do or did this for our own reasons. Perhaps it was to be more likeable, to hide some buried insecurities, or to wrap ourselves in a protective barrier.
There was a positive and a negative side to my chameleon days. Adapting to different situations is key for me as a disabled person. Anytime I go somewhere new, I must adapt quickly to different situations. Figuring things out as I go. Learning to adapt to and work with different personalities was not a terrible thing.
It taught me how to work well with others and learn to appreciate different personalities. That comes in handy when I interact with strangers to ask for help. Being highly adaptable is a skill that I will need for the rest of my life.
However, when that becomes a routine, as it did for me, is where the problem lies in my opinion. Over time, I was able to steer clear from showing my true colors. I would describe myself in school as someone who was able to get along with everyone. It was important to me, perhaps too important, to be liked by others.
Insecurities were a permanent resident within me. They wreaked havoc on my young mind, and well into my young adult years. Insecurity to me felt physically painful. Being uncomfortable in your own skin is a terrible feeling. A feeling most of us have experienced at one time or another.
I was not so different from my peers who were finding their own ways. Our realities were different, but we all just wanted to fit in. I can see that now. At the time, it felt like I was on an island by myself because I knew no one “just like me.”
I was typically the quiet one within the group, only speaking up if I felt pressure to do so. I felt like my thoughts did not matter as much as others. My wisdom at that time seemed less meaningful than it does now.
The worst part to being a chameleon is losing our authenticity. As my kids were growing up, I often said to them, “just be yourself,” while simultaneously feeling convicted knowing that is not how I lived. So, I would follow up with, “I know, easier said than done.”
Often, it is not until we get older that we start to recognize our true value in this world. Stepping back to take a moment t realize, all our story’s matter.
Last week, I received a beautiful email from a friend. Her words touched my heart and served as a timely reminder that I am on the right path. One thing she said really struck me and led me to reflect on how far I have diverted from my chameleon ways. She said, “I am just amazed at the depth in which you share yourself with your readers.”
After reading her email I thought of the unique chameleon. I thought of my long and treacherous road to authenticity.
It feels freeing to be able to adapt to my surroundings now, without losing my true self.
Until next time …
Amy Shinneman is a former National Ambassador for the Muscular Dystrophy Association, disability blogger, freelance writer, wife, and mom of two boys. You can find her blog at humblycourageous.com and reach her on Instagram @ashinneman.