As simple as that

Had we known each other in the fifth grade I would have told you about Gabriella Vacaldo. Gabriella was my Italian cousin and a star gymnast. She was the best in her class at pottery and she had long curly brown hair. Her parents gave her a cell phone at the mere age of 12 so she could call me anytime. Although it is great that I know so much about my cousin, I have a small confession to make. Gabriella Vacaldo never existed. I am convinced that everyone has a list of facts about themselves that they never plan to reveal out loud, yet here I am admitting a fact that is pretty close to the number one spot. I made up a cousin in the fifth grade. But in all fairness, everyone knows there is nothing cooler than having an Italian cousin to hang out with after school; at least there was nothing cooler at my lunch table. So as all the other kids scuttled off the black top at 3 p.m. to go play with Vinnie and Antonia, I was "making a call to Gabriella." In actuality, I was going to play by myself and kicking the dirt for my lack of Italian roots.

If my life were a pie chart, about 76% of it would be shaded with the words "follower." I have always had the potential to be a leader, but I chose never to accept it, to throw it to the side to go with the rest of the crowd. I hated kickball, but I played regardless. I have never been Catholic, but I wiped lead from my pencil on my head on Ash Wednesdays in elementary school to blend in with my peers. I hid every potential quality of mine that stood out so that I could be who I wanted to be more than anything a cookie cutter of everyone else.

It's called fitting in. It's called dying to fit the mold. It's called "God, please don't give me any trait that is distinguishable, different, unique or quirky." In elementary school it is absolutely essential, in middle school and high school it is torturous and if we are lucky, in college it begins to matter less. At some point, our brain makes a conscious realization that it's not really the fitting in, but rather the standing out that we should strive for. We go from following the group to being the leader.

Now I have heard a thousand definitions for what constitutes a leader. A leader is someone who stands out. A leader is someone who did the unpopular thing because it was the right thing. I have had to stop reading the ceramic mugs they sell in Hallmark stores and turn away the side of the Starbucks cup that has the inspirational leader quotes printed on it because I am tired of characterizing leaders. Let's quit defining leaders and just start defining ourselves. A title cannot instantly grant someone the qualities of a leader. No, no, a person must be willing to search inside of themselves to pick out the bits and pieces that make them different and that call them to inspire others. But more than that, a person must be willing to cultivate the gifts that have the potential to fulfill and lead them in life and listen to no one that tries to downplay these gifts.

I spent years of my life covering up the fact that I was a writer. I wanted to write for the school newspaper in high school more than anything but denied myself because it was considered "nerdy and lame." I kept certain truths-the fact that nothing made me happier than stringing together sentences for hours at a time or the fact that the New York Times' Best Seller List was more prized to me than my own Christmas list-far from the world because I knew these qualities adorned me with a word that I never wanted near a description of me: different.

However, this time last year I allowed myself to fall hopelessly in love. With alliteration and rhetoric. At a desk. With a reporter's notebook next to me. And a press badge for the Worcester Telegram and Gazette around my neck. I never believed I had been missing parts of myself until I realized how it felt to be complete for the first time. Writing did that for me, and it led me to a crossroad where I could either embrace the feeling of fullness and choose to let it guide me off the path I had precariously set for myself or choose to ignore it like I had often done in the past. The choice: to be a leader in my own life or a follower amongst too many sets of faded footprints.

I don't know that anyone will ever ask us if we took the steps to live as our true selves, to embrace what we were given and use it to leave the world wondering how it was ever without us. But wouldn't it be nice if someone did? Wouldn't it be astonishing to know that we created our legacies in this world in a fashion that left people never tiring at the sound of our name or telling one another of our contributions? Well it begins with a choice: Choosing to be out of the ordinary instead of common. Deciding to be a starring role rather than an extra. Opting for the solo instead of the chorus.

There will always be those who continue to convince us that it is best to go with the group, to be unofficially labeled as a follower. But I am convinced if we watched a band of followers from a distance, slowly but surely, we would see one branch out. And then another. Not everyone would, but certainly a few would listen to their inner voice and dare to live in accordance to their own standards of happiness. Some of them would realize that their heart never beat for a nine to five job. Others would stray when they discovered a hobby that drove their mind wild with ideas. And one might see that being a leader started with embracing their differences and maybe, just maybe, this one would realize that she never needed an Italian cousin for after school play dates to be remarkable in this world. For these words and more, visit www.ItsAsSimpleAsThat.Wordpress.com.