Survival of the fittest

Fitting into places often seems so stigmatized for no good reason. How can we blame someone for simply using their defense mechanisms? I’m going to try to write this without sounding overly annoying but noticing my own attempts at fitting in has made me recognize how it comes as a natural instinct.

Recently I’ve seen drastic changes in my style and wardrobe choices. One day I came back from school and the person I saw in the mirror seemed like a completely “preppy-ed” out, upper east side, navy blue and white version of myself. The changes were subtle enough at first to pass under my radar but one day after the other, I became just a little more private school-looking. First, it was the switch to gold hoops, then the abandonment of low-waisted jeans and loose tops, then to white jeans and v-neck sweaters (which interestingly enough was the blaring alarm that told me something seemed a little off).

It’s so weird to think about the person I was a year ago. I feel as if my life then and my life now have existed only in separate timelines. From the careless-looking, “cool girl” version of myself to whatever typical suburban student I am now. Not only my appearance but the whole routine of my life seems to have flipped on its head. It passes my mind every few days on my bus ride home, staring at the impossibly dream-like vibrant trees and Hudson River lining the parkway; how is it that a year ago my commute home frequently included tiptoeing around urine on the subway?

I feel very lucky but also a little removed. It’s like this switch placed my life into a TV show and every day is a repetition of the sitcom. I can’t exactly explain it because it’s not that things are too good to be true, but that they are too unfathomable to feel like reality. I know “real” life is not the way my semi-idyllic life is now. I feel as if I constantly have to remind myself of this, keep one foot on the ground to not get too lost in the illusory “perfection” of these days.

It all feels very set up and I don’t think I should be happy like I am. I wake up and put on my annoying little outfit, go to school on the yellow school bus, see the high school cliques gathered in the cafeteria, and so on… How is this my new norm?

I guess I’m grappling with more than my appearance.

The problem is whenever I start writing I get bombarded with a thousand other things that pop up in my mind. I suppose my feelings of being undeserving stem from the fact of feeling like I don’t immediately belong in my new environment. Maybe that pushed my need for conforming to seem more together on the outside. Although I also don't think that I look like or come off as not fitting in. It seems to be more of a subconscious mental block. I’m not saying I don’t like the way I am or how I look these days, only that I don’t particularly feel like myself. Though that doesn’t quite bother me so much. You become a product of your environment. Adaptation is necessary to survive.

I think about my shift into this hyper-preppy version of myself as a natural defense; like a chameleon being placed into a new habitat. It has to change and blend in to avoid being eaten, it finds comfort in that assimilation and safety of uniformity. I think that’s why I don’t mind conforming to the new standards around me. If anything, I’m happy it happened, I feel content, organized with this consistency.

This all might be regressive-sounding but if it is, it’s what I believe. Conformity is a survival tactic. When we have time to grow up and be ourselves, embracing our full identity seems like the clever and reasonable thing to do. Why not just wait it out and until then, try and survive the turmoil of teenagehood?

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11/4/22

I would like to make a revision of my prior statements. It’s been about two weeks since I wrote this post and since then, something has compelled me to completely reject this notion of “fitting in”. I believe some source of reverse psychology has taken place and forced me to outwardly reject everything I previously thought.

I think writing everything out was subconsciously cathartic for me. I’m back to being me! Kind of. I’m trying at least.

I mean if I don’t fit in I can rest easy knowing that I’m something instead of nothing…

It feels like a breath of fresh air, even though I’ve only changed to wear what I want. The invisible pressure has been lifted and reality feels more tangible. I think I’m just more grounded with my identity right now, I feel whole.