In my childhood, there were a few characters from books that helped me not only find myself but accept myself for who I am: autistic and quirky! One of them was Luna Lovegood from the Harry Potter series by J.K. Rowling.
As a child who was often the outcast and the target of many bullies due to being “different,” I identified with Luna. I loved that she accepted who she was and that, no matter what the bullies would do or say, she’d keep her chin up and use it to teach others, or as a learning experience for herself. She never looked down on herself for being quirky and different. I loved that about her because, unlike myself, I couldn’t get over being different. I wanted so desperately to be “normal.”
The thing is, instead of being viewed as quirky, I was viewed as the weird child in school throughout my life, and Luna embodied what I wanted so desperately to be. I felt like she was my best friend (I knew she was only a fictional character), but I felt like I understood her so much that I knew her personally. I would read and read and tell myself that one day, just maybe, I would accept who I am and become like Luna.
Being autistic is just being myself. I am now 23 and have just barely grasped that. I was and still am very much like Luna with my characteristics. The only difference? I have now accepted myself. Thanks to the help of the Harry Potter gang, I got through one of my deepest bouts of depression I had as a child (I also have PTSD).
I remember one day after school, after being bullied so much I felt I had nothing to continue living for, I came home to a package on my bed. This heavy, bulky package. addressed to a Lady Arianna Nyswonger, from my favorite, loving, biggest-Harry-Potter-fan uncle, was the seventh and final Harry Potter book. Through a stream of unending tears I opened that package and grabbed the book. I stroked its binding, and I remember telling myself, “I can get through this, I know I can. Just one more year and I am done. Just like Harry and the gang and Luna, one more year.” It was my senior year, and I was having a rough time with it. I immediately opened the book and started reading, losing myself in its white pages and the gifted words of a fantastic storyteller. I soon forgot why I was so upset and the thoughts of “giving up” and just “ending myself” were completely lost within the typed out words. Harry and his story helped me, but Luna helped me the most. Anytime she’d show up in the book, I would get excited — it was someone I could finally relate to. Luna was me!
Every day after school, I’d pick up the book and read. Through tears, I’d battle my own demons just through reading this book. Harry defeating Voldemort was me defeating the person inside telling me to quit. It was me defeating the bullies who constantly brought me down. It was me defeating myself, the part of my wanting to quit and die.
Hogwarts was my home during my childhood. I have been there since the beginning, and it’s been there for me. It’s helped me through my deepest, darkest times when I thought there was no hope. It gave me someone I could relate to. It helped me accept me. And for that, I can never repay J.K. Rowling. She gave me a safety zone, somewhere in my mind I could go to get away. She wrote a character who told me people would accept me if I just would be me, that the haters can hate but they can’t change you. She wrote a character who helped me become who I am today: a writer, an activist, a blogger and most importantly, myself.
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