While I was growing up, my mom enrolled my sister and I in a daycare program before and after school, including every school break. As a single mom, she couldn’t afford to take time off work to watch us, so most of my early development took place there. I was always a character as a child—constantly involved in everything I could imagine, choir, the school musical, soccer, and more. “Boisterous” could’ve been my middle name. I eagerly embraced every challenge, athletically and artistically. I wanted to do it all, and to this day, there aren’t many things I’m not interested in or willing to try.
However, growing up as a girl in a conservative town presented its own set of challenges. At first, I was fearless, accepting every challenge without hesitation. In daycare, we played a lot of kickball and with my soccer background and intermediate experience as a goalie, I became a reliable home run kicker and outfielder. I was the only girl who played and I was never picked last. It was empowering to compete on equal—or even higher—levels with the boys, and it fueled my ego.
But as time went on, something shifted. My confidence was shaken, and I began caring more about what others thought of me. Slowly, I pulled back from the activities that once brought me pride and joy. Kickball lost its appeal, and soon, I stopped trying to outshine the boys in other sports. My competitiveness remained, but I began to realize it wasn’t worth the risk of social rejection. As I got older, the attention I received from boys wasn’t as affirming as it once was. Instead of feeling understood, I started feeling more insecure.
As I spent more time with the girls on my soccer team and in choir, I started to understand myself in new ways. My quirks, once seen as “pushy” or “tomboyish,” revealed themselves in a different light. I realized I wasn’t just a competitive, driven girl; I was fragile, bubbly, and—as society would define me—weird. By the time I reached high school, I had shed the domineering tomboy persona I once clung to. I found a version of myself that existed beyond seeking others’ approval, one that embraced who I truly was, without needing to fit anyone else’s mold. However, it only fully emerged when I was with people I trusted, like my closest friends.
Even though I was very aware of this version of myself, I still found myself adapting my people-pleasing tendencies to every person and situation in my life. I was overly empathetic, relentlessly optimistic, endlessly forgiving, and, at times, easily overlooked and taken advantage of. While these qualities have bitten me in the butt more than once, I do believe they’re some of my most redeeming traits. There’s nothing wrong with being a chronic optimist or a perpetually forgiving person—but there’s a fine line between embodying those qualities and learning to set boundaries that protect yourself because unfortunately, the world is not all sunshine and rainbows.
About five months ago, I found myself in a place where my best qualities had been taken advantage of for far too long. I ended up losing much of my personality, and some of the things I valued most about myself. When everything finally settled, I had a moment of clarity during the healing process. I was disappointed in myself for once again letting myself become a “charity case.” However, I let that disappointment fuel my drive to be better, and to finally establish boundaries that would prevent this from happening again. I dove into books on boundaries, attachment styles, and philosophical manuscripts, and over time, I began to integrate this knowledge into my routine.
For someone who’s always looked for the best in every situation, I realized that my disappointment in myself was more complicated than I first thought. I wanted to set boundaries to protect myself, to make sure I never lost who I was again. However,t at the same time, I recognized that part of who I am is the very thing that made me vulnerable in the first place.
As a recommendation from a friend, I started watching New Girl about a month ago, and it has since become my favorite show. The main character, Jess, has consistently been able to touch my heart as I watch the show. I see a lot of myself in Jess—the boisterous, weird, overbearing, and overall, unconventionally annoying girl. Sometimes she’ll sing in the middle of a sentence or start tap dancing out of nowhere. That’s me—I’m Jess.
At the start of New Girl, Jess is a quirky whirlwind who tends to overwhelm those around her. Her exuberance is often mistaken for annoyance, and her bright-eyed optimism is something the more cynical characters, like Nick and Schmidt, initially mock or distance themselves from. Jess’ behavior can be intrusive and she’s not afraid to pour her heart out, even if it’s at the wrong moment or in the wrong way. But, over time, those very things that seemed “too much” are revealed to be what makes her lovable. While her loft mates might initially think she’s the most annoying person on the planet, they later come to respect her because of how unapologetically her she is.
What makes Jess’s character so endearing, and what makes the other characters finally fall in love with her, is that they start to see beyond the quirks and the awkwardness to the heart of who she is: genuine, caring, and full of love. They eventually realize how much she brings to their lives—not just in terms of entertainment, but in emotional depth and sincerity. The more they accept her for who she truly is, the more they fall in love with her, quirks and all.
Jess serves as a reminder that when we stop trying to fit into someone else’s world, we are free to show up as our most authentic selves. In my world, I can be competitive and play sports with everyone—including men. In my world, I can dance in random public spaces, and sing at inopportune and embarrassing times. In my world, I don’t have to tear apart my life and give up the things I like to do, because I like them. Jess has taught me that showing up as your true authentic self will only make others love you more.
As I’ve been watching Jess go through her journey in New Girl, it’s made me realize something important about my own growth. There was a time when I thought my quirks and vulnerabilities were things to hide, especially in a world that often rewards conformity. I thought I needed to tone myself down, to be more like everyone else, so I could avoid being “too much.” It was through watching Jess go from being the “annoying girl” to being the one everyone depends on and loves. It reminds me of my own path—how I’ve struggled with wanting to be accepted, but also how I’m learning that my true self is what people will ultimately connect with.
People will fall in love with me for my competitiveness—the same spirit that once made me stand out in kickball and sports, and the drive that still motivates me today. People will fall in love with my chronic optimism, even when it feels overly hopeful or naive. People will laugh with me during my random (and admittedly terrible) dance breaks, and they’ll admire my goofy nature, my weird little quirks, and the way I express myself unapologetically. And in those moments, they’ll see something I’ve come to understand: there is power in being unapologetically myself, just like Jess.
Jess taught me that being the “weird” girl—whether it’s through offbeat humor, oddball dance moves, or a personality that doesn’t fit in neatly—isn’t a flaw to be hidden away. It’s exactly what makes me unique, and what draws the right people into my life. I’m learning that my quirks and vulnerabilities are not just parts of who I am, they are the parts that people will love, respect, and connect with most.
In times when I am undeniably myself, I can create a space where the people around me can embrace me for who I truly am, while also warding off the people who don’t. It’s not about conforming to other people’s ideas of who I should be; it’s about unapologetically introducing them to who I am. Because I don’t need to completely change myself to earn love—I already deserve it, and so do you.