GPOYW
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GPOYW

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Blog a Day
13. What gives you confidence?
Practice.
I need to have done something at least once before I have anything other than anxiety about it. If I have to do something important Iāll practice it once (preferably in private with no observers who might criticize :).
I hate winging it ...
First then Middle
My parents were so original. My first name is the girl version of my fathers name which was Ronald. My middle is just another version of my motherās name which is Mary. You guys are smart. Youāll figure it out.
My name is Danielle, and I go by Danny.
I really was born when it was storming.
āWhere did you grow up?ā
I have moved nearly 50 times in my life. That might sound like hyperbole but I assure you it is not. Iāve lived in some places for as little as a month and for as long as 3 years. Though thatās the longest I have ever called one place Home. I went to more than a dozen schools in my childhood. I was perpetually the New Kid growing up. I have no childhood home I could pinpoint.
Iāve moved houses so many times, I feel like I canāt even concentrate on them. Talking about each move would be like most people going though each haircut theyāve ever had in life. So instead I will focus on the times Iāve moved country. Iāve moved countries 10 times in my life now.
Iāve only ever lived in South Africa, England, or America, but Iāve bounced back and forth between them a lot. Making that āwhere did you grow up?ā question so much harder than it should be.
I was born in South Africa, so I suppose technically thatās where Iām from, though no one believes me when I say that. My parents did move to London when I was only 2 years old. Where we stayed, and bounced from borough to borough, until I was 8 years old. When my momās parents moved to the states, Georgia to be exact, and my parents decided to follow. Which began our dance with the visa and immigration system.
We moved around so much at this point in my life, I find it easier to go by where I had my birthday than year by year.
I turned 10 in the states.
We then moved back to the UK again, but only for 6 months. I wasnāt old enough to completely understand why, but I believed it was to do with sorting visas out
I turned 11 in England.
We moved back to the states not long after, but had problems with our visas(again š¤Ø) so we returned to England. We didnāt stay long though, no more than 2 months before my parents decided to move back to South Africa. (Which means we moved countries 3 times in a year)
I turned 12 in South Africa.
Though my parents still couldnāt commit to a house, we did stay in the same area for 2 years, before their itchy feet kicked in. The crime and corruption was their reasoning for relocating back to England.
I turned 14 in England.
Though again we didnāt stay long, less than a year, before they set their sites back on the states.
I turned 15 in America.
We then stayed in America for 4 years. We moved states a couple times and house plenty of times of course. But I spent all of my late teenage years there. Until the itchy feet stuck again and we moved back to England.
I turned 19 in England.
Where I stayed for the past 8 years, until recently. Where Iāve some how returned to My country of birth. I never thought Iād end up living here again, yet here I am.
If youāve managed to keep up with that, then youāre doing better than me. If not, you can see why itās so hard to answer that question. No matter which answer I give to who ever, it doesnāt sound right.
I have an accent no matter where I go. Itās not American enough, English enough or south African enough to sound local to any of those places. If a South African asks where Iām from and I say Johannesburg, theyāll think Iām joking. If an Englishmen asks me where Iām from and I say London, they laugh and say no really? If I tell an American that Iām from Georgia, theyāll think Iām crazy.
I am perpetually foreign! Even in my country of birth.

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Ant history.
(My 19 year old brother thought thatās how to say ancestory, so it stuck in our family, and itās how we all say it now)
My family is such a melting pot. I have tentative claims to so many different heritages. I really wanted to do on of those DNA ancestory tests, but Iāve yet to have a chance.
There have been quite a few family trees constructed by distant relatives, because our historyās so intesting, I suppose, on either side on my parents.
Starting with my dad. Heās a born and bread Africana, a bore through and through. On his motherās side, our linage can be traced back to the Mooreās who fled France. Specifically French Mooreās, with more than a few rumours and some evidence that our line stems directly from that of the French aristocracy that fled during the revolution. Thatās where the dark skin in my family comes from. My great grandmother on my dadās momās side, was so dark that she wasnāt allowed to go to a white school in South Africa. Where his mothers side was quite staunch and traceable, his fathers side was also a melting pot! His fathers father was German, his fathers mother, a red haired green eyed Irish lass, right off the boat. The legacy of that could be seen in my brothers bright red hair when he was born.
My mother, on the other hand, was born in England, London. Her dad was a cockney lad through and through! Iām sure if I could trace that line, Iād find chimney sweeps and old English gentlemen. His family was as English as you could get. Her mom however, is another confusing factor. She was born in England but raised traveling around, like I was. My momās momās dad, was a Russian Orthodox Jew, who was as born in Egypt and smuggled in to South Africa in a suitcase. Which should give you an idea of how complicated that side of the family tree is. Thereās actually been a proper family tree made for that side of the family. I have a strong enough Jewish heritage that I could visit Palestine.
One thing I can say for sure is that my gene pool is very my diversified. For about 4 generations on either side of my family, we have all married and had childeren with people of different cultures and heritages. It seems like my history is filled with people escaping persecution or prosecution. There aināt nothing pure about my blood.
What is fascinating is that lyle has just as strange of a heritage. Mixed mixed mixed and mixed again! For generations there is half of this or half of that and half of this again. So our childeren would beable to trace their linages back to a multitude of cultures and countries.
Iām glad that there is a prompt later on this month about where we grew up and how often weāve moved, because Iāll use that one to delve deeper in to my own cultural identity crisis, because my heritage does nothing to help with that.
āWhat is in a nameā
My parents were convinced I was gonna be a boy, to the point that they didnāt even have a girls name picked out for me when I came. I was going to be called Tyrone, had it gone to plan.
Instead I was nameless for a day or two as they struggled to agree on one. My dad came up with ChermĆ©, claiming it was a combination of his name, Christiaan, and my motherās, Melanie. He wanted that to be my first name, but it became my middle name after my mom, and both my grandmothers had decided on Danielle. For no other reason than that they liked it. Though technically it is DaniellĆ©, because my parents thought they were fancy.
Loved
My love language, with out a doubt, is words of affirmation. I feel most loved when Iām told how loved I am.
Itās not just with romantic love, itās with all relationships. I like being told lovely things. I love getting praise and compliments. I feel loved when I feel appreciated and valued. I like being verbally reassured, about everything. I feel that there is power in the words we speak.
Itās how I show love too. Iām full of compliments all the time. I love the feeling of making some one else feel good about them selfs. I usually tell people exactly how I feel about them (so long as itās positive) because Iād like to be told too.
Itās important to me to always say āI love youā to the ones I do, because I never want them to be in doubt of my love.