Who Am I, Really?

I am in an identity crisis.

This isn’t a secret; I’m pretty open about it. For the past eight months or so, I have been really trying to figure out who I am and who I am meant to be, and it’s a direct result of leaving a career I loved and many people I loved to “fulfill my dreams” in a new place.

But what are my dreams, anyway?

If I don’t know what they are, how can I fulfill them?

But I digress. This blog post is not about my dreams. The issue at hand is IDENTITY.

Merriam-Webster defines identity like this:

Close your eyes for a moment (well, don’t really close your eyes because then you can’t continue reading, but pretend you’re closing your eyes for the full effect and so I can pretend I have control over readers for a moment) and answer the following question:

“WHO ARE YOU?”

…

If eight months ago, I was asked that question, I would have applied the following rationale to my answer:

“I would not be me if I wasn’t ____________.”

-a mother

-a daughter

-a writer

-a teacher

Basically all of the –er words which describe the various roles in my life. That’s who I am, right? Right?

But what if…

I couldn’t have had children? My parents died? I lost my hands and couldn’t write (OK this one is a little far-fetched, but ya catch ma drift)? What if I’m not a teacher anymore?

I’ve thought about this quite a bit (clearly), and I’ve realized that this “identity” isn’t really my identity at all. The words I just used to describe who I am only characterize my relationships with other people, the world, and my profession.

So… who am I?

I’ve come to realize that when we evaluate our self-worth based on our roles in the world, our lives can be shattered if we lose one of these roles. For example, I was a teacher since 2013, and I put my heart and soul into it. When people ask me, “What do you do?” I am proud to say I am a teacher. I feel like telling people about my profession somehow casts me as someone of value, someone who is making a difference in the world.

It’s what I do! Therefore, it’s who I am.

Since moving, though, I’m not a teacher anymore. I am not sure what to even say if I am asked that question—and I am currently asked that question quite often. See how this simple conversation makes my psyche spiral out of control? How I am left with a sense of identity loss?

But my role as a teacher-- or as a stay-at-home mom-- doesn’t really describe my identity at all.

A friend from college and I were talking on a calm, sunny evening earlier this week to catch up after about a year apart. The weather was perfect; it felt like early fall. We had just gone to an organic market and bought some hipster beers. Knowing open container was illegal, but feeling naughty (however naughty one can be as a married mother in broad daylight), we opted to find a spot in a closed, but somehow not barricaded, patio.

Sitting toward the back of the shaded courtyard, slightly hiding from passersby and the potential officer to arrest us for drinking beers, we unloaded a spread of cheese curds, gluten-free crackers, lemon-lavender ales and tangerine IPAs on an empty table. There, after filling our empty bellies, admiring the array on rough round table in front of us, and feeling the warmth of alcohol creeping through our veins, we talked about life.

Marriage. Children. Careers. Are we satisfied? Are we surprised? Are we disappointed?

The consensus: We aren’t sure. Is anyone?

Our discussions that evening were open, but not definite. We were aware of our lives, but not sure what to make of them or where they would go next.

So anyway, we started talking about who we were in college and how we’ve changed, how motherhood made us different people, and how the strain of our careers and societal pressures and whatnot is difficult, to say the least. Life is hard, but nobody warned us.

“I wish someone had talked to me about who I was back in college,” she said. “I feel like if I had understood myself better then, I would understand myself more now.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, but someone DID tell me who I was back in college.

I actually took a whole class called “Personality and Individual Differences”. I learned in that class that I am 100% extraverted, 98% neurotic, and like 4% conscientious. I learned that I am prone to make bad decisions, then beat myself up about them. I learned that I love meeting people, but I always feel like I am lacking in social relationships and need other people to survive. I am clingy, impulsive, and agreeable. I am quite the assortment of both positive and negative personality traits, all rolled into a small, fiery package.

What did I do with the information I received from that course? Nothing. Because what does one do about information if one has no control over it? It's like learning a meteor is heading toward Earth, but nobody can do anything about it. We would probably just sit here, waiting, knowing, freaking out. That's pretty much what I did.

So that brings us back to my conversation with my friend. I was sitting under the string lights, sipping on the bitter fizz of tangerine IPA, wondering, “Who am I if I’m not a teacher anymore?”

Really, Addie?

I pondered my previous self-definitions, realizing that for each of those roles, I was establishing myself as a different noun (mother, daughter, teacher, etc.), but even if I didn’t have my kids, my husband, my degrees, my house, my dog, my tattoos, or anything else, I would still be the same me that I was when I was eight.

Let’s try this one again, this time using verbs.

“I wouldn’t be me if I wasn’t ________________.”

-overthinking every conversation and social relationship

-questioning whether I am doing enough good

-questioning whether I am good enough

-trying to create meaningful relationships while running from toxicity

- looking for the bright side of every situation—not for myself, but for others

-needing constant approval from other people, even when it doesn’t truly matter

-rebelling against societal norms (like drinking beers in public, though this one has evolved a little since age 8)

-instigating excitement and pushing people out of their comfort zones

-despising blandness and yearning for constant color and flavor

-fighting, nonviolently, for my beliefs and passions

-trying to instill hope, truth, love, and friendship in a sometimes brutal, dark world.

-weaving together my past experiences with my present and future to try to make sense of life

-walking the fine line of public performance and honesty

I think these descriptions, altogther, represent my true identity. Not my roles. This is who I am.

It’s who I’ve always been.

Who are you?