For the camera and beyond:

When I was a girl, my father would often encourage me to clown around for the camera. We enjoyed being silly together, but I soon learned to enjoy acting out.

In this picture of me with my Raggedy Ann doll, I distinctly remember my father telling me to act surprised about something. It strikes me as strangely unnatural, but he laughed. I’m sure he loved it.

The unfortunate truth is that early encouragement to be expressive can later clash with societal expectations. And I was one of those kids who didn’t understand subtlety.

I stuck my foot in my mouth, talked too loudly, acted impulsively, and generally annoyed my schoolmates. Now of course, I understand this is common with children who have ADHD. Social cues baffle us.

During one school recess on a gray November afternoon, I screamed as loud as I could just because. I interpreted the shocked, scowling faces of my friends as their hand covered their ears as a good thing. I kept screaming, trying to best myself. Wow, I thought, Look as how impressed they are with my vocal abilities. When of one the sweetest fourth grade friends I had said to me, “Please stop,” I finally got it and shut my mouth.

Dialing back the crazy

When I was a young adult, I learned to keep my mouth shut for fear of making a fool of myself or offending someone.

Trying to be quieter, smaller, and more composed wears on you, though. It’s like walking around in shoes that are two sizes too tight. You can do it, but you start to forget what running feels like.

Being yourself takes nerve.

Identity, authenticity, and self-acceptance

One thing I’ve learned late in life, however, is that the people who matter most are the ones who laugh with you. Not everyone is going to like who you are, or the version of you that they hold in their mind. That version is not really you. It’s a reflection, a guess or supposition, like a snapshot image that cannot change. You are movement. Change. Layer upon layer. You don’t owe anyone the comfort of staying small, or the courtesy of fitting their frame.

I’m choosing to be more. Being real means being misunderstood sometimes, but it also means being free.

Don’t ever be afraid to be yourself. It’s probably a heck of a lot more fun.

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Linda K. Sienkiewicz writes fiction, poetry and essays.
Her second novel, Love and Other Incurable Ailments, is coming October 27, 2026 from Regal House Publishing: When love letters from a far-away stranger fall into the hands of an anxious overthinker, she convinces herself she can save him—but her misguided scheme goes horribly wrong, and the pain is so great she fears she must flee the life and friends she’s grown to love.
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