Who am I?
I’ve got to be honest, this question is throwing me for a loop. I’ve been thinking about it for the last few hours specifically, and in a more general way, I’ve been thinking about it my whole life.
And I still haven’t come up with an answer.
I googled the question “who am I?” and came up with a myriad of personality tests and self-help articles. But I could take every personality quiz in the world and I still don’t think I would know who I was. In fact, I’d probably end up with a pile of confounding results and more confusion than I’d started out with.
I guess that was my own mistake, looking to others to answer the question.
“A wonderful fact to reflect upon, that every human creature is constituted to be that profound secret and mystery to every other.” – Charles Dickens
Even if I were the most eloquent wordsmith (which I am assuredly not) it would be impossible for me to craft a narrative that would properly convey the answer to the above question. Anything that would come close would fill a library with volumes. No one would be able to bear reading it and much of it would be terribly boring.
I am a work in progress. I am both the artist and the art, the student and the teacher. I am constantly drawing lines in the sand, only to scuff them out a moment later. Trying to fit in boxes has never worked well for me, so I keep remaking them. I am the amalgamation of every experience I have ever had and the person I am tomorrow will not be the same person as I am today.
I am someone trying to be better than she was before. I am someone who pushes physically and mentally until she nearly breaks, and yet has made it this far in one piece. I am someone who is exhausted with being herself but unable to be anyone but that. Often, I wonder how other people can tolerate me when I can barely tolerate myself. But I am walking a journey of growth and discovery and I refuse to stop. I am practicing aggressive self-love.
Who I am is still a mystery. But I know that whoever that person is, I need to love them unconditionally. So, here’s to not beating myself up for the existential crisis that this question sent me through and accepting that maybe who I am is someone who doesn’t know who they are.