A few months ago, I went to Harry Potter World with my dad (as I have already documented). While we were there, I of course had to figure out the Houses of my entire family, and I quickly learned that I am a Hufflepuff in a family of Ravenclaws. It’s like if a Weasley were sorted into any other House besides Gryffindor.
Now, I’ve known I am a Hufflepuff for a while now, and even though being Sorted into Hogwarts Houses may seem (and might be) arbitrary, this revelation was actually an enlightening one.
I often feel “different” and “not normal” because the rest of my family seems to like much different things than I do. I like tattoos (even my ukulele is “tattooed”) and piercings, I like looking masculine, my mental illnesses can be debilitating, and I’m a member of the LGBT+ community. Even when I was little, I was the kid that was always in their own world, never tuned all the way into the world my family was living in. (One of my many nicknames was “flower child.” I’ve always believed I am part hippie despite my constant anxiety.) Although I inherited my love for words and the
English language from them, I’ve been obsessed with words on more levels than anyone else in my immediate family. I’m slightly off center.
When I told my family I was Sorted into Hufflepuff, they all said that I was more like a Ravenclaw. They said this like it was reassuring. While my family will always love me and support me, this just seemed evidence that they wanted to see me as more similar to them. They wanted me to fit in more than I felt that I really did.
For a long time, I’ve fluctuated between loving my uniqueness and hating it. I recently told my mom, after we had argued about my new haircut, that I felt like the black sheep of the family. I felt that I was just accepted instead of celebrated. Sometimes even just tolerated. And I’m not going to lie, it was hard coming home for the summer, because my friends don’t mind that I’m a Hufflepuff; they love me for all of my eccentricities.
This summer has already proved to be a struggle. I’ve had a mental breakdown, I can no longer work where I worked last summer, and I can’t quite love myself as much as I need to. So I’m on a mission to fix things (no matter how hard it might be to get out of bed).
One step I have taken to accepting my Hufflepuff identity is making friends with other Hufflepuffs. Being surrounded by people who are like me in some ways and different in others makes me feel more normal, like I’m supposed to be this way. Though I will someday be able to get rid of my outdated ideas of “normal” and “weird,” for now I like the feeling of belonging somewhere. It’s exhausting to constantly be the weird one; so I’ve made some weird friends.
And now I’m going to try to take back my life while I’m at home, without my friends, because I need to learn to love who I am no matter who surrounds me. If I can’t love who I am in any situation, then I will crumble like a cookie at the first sign of difficulty. Which is my current method of dealing
with my problems. (Just a tip: It’s not a good method.)
I’m going to try kickboxing. I’m going to start meditating again. I’m going to get outside to move around as often as I can. I’m going to stay in touch with friends and try to get on better terms with my sister, who is my favorite person in the world. I’m going to continue playing instruments, writing, reading, and challenging myself with a summer class at a local college. And most importantly, I’m going to wear my Hufflepuff hat with pride.