I like being weird. That’s just another one of my weird traits.

Being weird and curious, I decide to play detective into its historic meaning to get a clearer grasp of its definition today. I believe truth expands from its roots. So, let’s see if I will be truthfully describing myself.

Instead of consulting an online dictionary like any self-respecting writer, I reach out to my new bestie, Gemini. Here I go on an interesting journey back in time to the original definition of the word weird.

In Old English, before the Middle Ages, the noun "wyrd" meant fate or destiny. It came from the Old English verb weorban: to become or to happen.

Fast forward to the Middle Ages, where our friend Shakespeare reshaped the English language in his own unique way. When he wrote Macbeth, the Old English word "wyrd" still meant fate, destiny, or, get ready, the power that controls fate. I love that! It’s beginning to nourish my sense of self.

So, his Weird Sisters in the play were not Strange Sisters.

They were the Sisters of Fate.

As the word "weird" evolved, Shakespeare revived it with the eerie, supernatural vibes of the witches in Macbeth, and slowly, the meaning shifted. It became less about destiny and more about the goosebump feeling the witches created in us. Our literal voyage of the word "weird" arrives at the common definition of today: strange, odd, or bizarre.

Now, I’m not a linguist or an expert on the English language. But I do have a humble take on a modern version of being weird.

To me, the most obvious characteristic of weirdness is being unique and, more importantly, accepting it. Almost flaunting it. Almost. Flaunting turns into ego, and that’s not the point. Weirdness already implies non-conformity and existing slightly outside the pack. I accept and enjoy that difference. That’s the beautifully weird part. I don’t even hide it anymore.

But it took me a long time to get here.

For example, when I was a child, I liked eating a tomato the way you eat an apple. I would just bite into it. It was so yummy, especially when it was fresh! Until a young girl saw me and shouted, “Ewww! She’s eating a tomato!” I turned as red as the juicy tomato dripping in my hand.

Recently, rain showers became an invitation for me to walk, sing, and get naturally wet! The exhilaration is incomparable! But others see me as silly for purposefully risking a cold or a fever. (PS: bacteria and viruses cause illness, not water falling from clouds.)

My little quirks invited criticism and comments, even though my actions were pretty harmless.

Honestly, I like eating a tomato like an apple and walking in the rain. As I matured, I realized I shouldn’t need to hide my little pleasures. I’m not shaking hands with sticky tomato fingers or waggling the rainwater onto people. And those little acts make me happy, and that’s the point. I do them for me, not others.

You know what else? Being weird is fun! I let myself go comfortably, without hurting anyone. I release tension and refresh energy. Isn’t that a recurring message in all those self-help books? Find ways to de-stress and renew yourself?

Well, there you go. I do it instinctively. I don’t even have to plan it. Or read about planning it.

This behavior leads to another trait of weirdness, which is sincerity. I speak and act with heart. Whatever I do is intentional. There is no scheming or overthinking. My true nature is open to everyone.

When people see me for who I am, I’m being fair to myself. It’s not even about self-confidence; it’s about being okay with who I am. I care for my well-being. It’s good that I’m good with myself. It will go much farther. Being okay with who I am, I will be better with everyone around me.

Essentially, by caring for myself, it also means I care about you. When I respect my authentic presence, I respect your presence (quirky or not) by being honest with you. Some people may whisper about my weirdness, but they also trust that I’m not fooling them. The irony? Even if I embarrass them slightly in public, they are at ease around me. They feel safe in my presence.

Except my kids have their own perspective. (Rolling eyes!) They want to hide away from me when I act strange in public. They wish I could just be a simple, regular mom who doesn’t talk vividly to everyone she meets.

I understand they get annoyed. Honestly, I felt the same with my parents when I was young. But because I have the courage to be who I am, I happily continue and enjoy bugging them with that little extra touch.

When I’m old, looking through photo albums, wearing an all-year Christmas bonnet and mismatched socks, I know they’ll remember these moments and laugh. That will be the time when being weird is expected, not shunned. Plus, I’ll be out of their way by then! Ha!

I get it that my weirdness bothers those closest to me. My quirks can be embarrassing, but are they really?

I am courageous enough to show my true self. Those quirks that I appreciate exist uniquely in all of us. And I enhance my well-being by letting them free.

And here we go back to the literal root of the word weird. I have the power to control my behavior and therefore, my fate.

So, when my present is shaped by honesty, sincerity, authenticity, courage, and fun… Is being weird really that weird?

I like my humble evolution of the word "weird" quite a bit.

By choosing this definition and living by it, I will own my destiny, wyrdness and all.