While my mom can't go a day without expressing her love and pride for me, she doesn't see eye-to-eye with me in a lot of ways. She doesn't know how a girly city girl like her could've raised a redneck tomboy like me. She sometimes thinks I need to flaunt my beauty and show off my scars, but just the idea of doing that makes me shiver. She doesn't know how I can eat any and all kinds of meats including liver, heart, and rocky mountain oysters, and take the life of my own food. She sees Bambi and Winnie the Pooh, while I see a walking sirloin with a side of peas and carrots. 

But most of all, she really doesn't understand why it's so hard for me to socialize and make friends. I've tried to explain it to her many times, but she just doesn't always get it. She thinks I'm just being weird, and I just need to get over it. However, as time goes on, I think she's starting to see why. She sees how sociable I can be, but only sees that with people I've known for awhile and can sort of trust. Even though she occasionally tells me to stop being a wuss and just get out there, she's glad I keep my distance from everyone until I know them well enough. Her messages can be mixed sometimes, but I think that's because she hoped for me to turn out normal, but is glad that I'm not at the same time. And I understand her feelings very well. 

I want to be normal, but I'm glad I'm not. Sometimes I wish I can just go with the grain and fit in, but then I'm reminded that normal is boring and going with the crowd is often destructive. Sometimes I ask God, "Why, oh why?", but then something happens that brings me back to thanking God for even my worst days. Sometimes I just want to give up, but then I remember that giving up means to die, and I want to live more than anything. Sometimes I think about blending in with the crowd by dressing like most of my peers, but then I remember that A) it would make my life suck, B) I would hate every second of it, and C) I remember my mom's warnings about dressing up like that, and how it typically attracts all the wrong people. Sometimes I wish I was in a pack, but it's way more awesome to be a lone wolf!

So, just like my parents have said, I need to be glad that I'm not normal and take pride in it. My unwillingness to go with the flow has not only saved my dignity, but it has saved my life. If I just went along with the conventional treatments for CF, chances are I would be just as sick as everyone else. If I didn't proudly give modern society the finger and tried to mold myself into it, I don't even know where I'd be, but it wouldn't be a great place.