Who Am I?

Sometimes I feel like I don’t do enough. I work, I hang out with my boyfriend, I spend time with my mom, and that’s pretty much it. I think I tell myself that there’s little time for anything else, but that’s just not true. I could do things after work, I don’t have to spend my Saturday days with my mom, but that’s what happens.

The guilt of not spending enough time with her shapes my weekly schedule. Know who else I don’t see? The rest of my family. I can’t remember the last time I saw Mom, Grandma has all but given up the idea of seeing me ever. And I do feel bad, but apparently not bad enough to change anything.

It seriously makes me question myself as a person. Like, I’m not being a good granddaughter, but at a larger scale, I’m neglecting people who care about me, so overall I’m not a good person.

That struggle to figure out who we are? Does that ever stop? I’d like to think that at some point I’ll know, but it just doesn’t seem possible. How can anyone truly know who they are? Especially because we are constantly evolving beings. Or maybe we’re not actually.

There are two schools of thought, right? People are who they are at their core (and can’t change), or people can change. I don’t really know which one I believe. I can’t think of any instances where a person really, truly, changed who they were, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen. I think believing one way or the other goes hand in hand with what one thinks about humanity, and whether we’re born with inherent traits. Like the question “Are people inherently good or bad?” Who the fuck knows?! And more importantly, who the fuck cares?!

There is probably not one single person alive who remains untouched, unshaped by the world. Whether we were born good or bad, that’s covered now, by the things we learn as we live our lives. We’re influenced by what we learn in school, by TV, even by our day to day interactions with other humans. It’s so hard to find who we are and to stay true to that person because in just living our lives we are bombarded with things that are “other.” These things just aren’t a part of us, and so become other, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t strong enough to cloud what we think of ourselves and how we act.

I don’t know who I am. I know what things I like to do, what I believe in, how I prefer to interact with people, but that’s not who I am, that’s how I am. Maybe I’ll never know.

 


Featured image source: http://risenmonk.com/?p=156

Advertisements