This is a blog post I wrote nearly a month and a half ago on my “real life blog” but it seemed appropriate to re-post here as I begin this new adventure. As my squad and I prepare to embark on a life-changing journey that will re-define our view of life, of the world, and of ourselves.
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Who are you? Who am I? What defines us?
This is something I’ve been thinking about a lot lately and really much of my adult life. So much time is spent trying to discover who we are, what’s unique and different about us, but only enough so that we don’t stand out from the cool crowd. We confine ourselves without meaning to, take other people’s words and perceptions of us to heart for how we should act, and define ourselves by the surroundings or community/culture in which we’re currently immersed.
Or am I the only one?
It’s not until my routine is rocked, or rules are removed that the overwhelming F-word (freedom. calm down, guys) scares me to pieces. There’s so much to choose from. So much to do. So many people, places, things, events, options, variety… where do I even begin? Is there a right or wrong way to start? What am I supposed to find my identity in now? Who’s going to make me feel good about myself, what hobby or interest is going to define me?
The answer is nothing. No one. Or should be anyway. And I usually think that it is my answer–until someone leaves, I move on, or have completely started over somewhere new and all alone. As me. Which is who again?
I don’t know why this is such a battle. I don’t know why I struggle so much with finding a foothold on life, or why my heart can’t seem to beat at a steady, relaxed pace. It’s like I can’t stop running, even when I thought I was at a standstill. I can’t settle down in my own skin or view life from my own eyeballs. It’s always from the eagle eye view of someone else or partially blocked by the tall person standing in front of me [which happens without a doubt at every concert. A short people section would be nice…]
I wonder if I listened to all the cliches and did as they say that maybe then life would make sense. Throw all caution to the wind. Discover myself, make a lasting impression on everyone I meet, do anything I put my mind to.
But wait. All those things have to do with me. Selfish, self-centered. Eyes focused inward, fingers pointing back at me.
Ah yes. Now we find the problem.
In moments such as these, when I’m doubting myself, wondering who I am, freaking out just a tad [ok, a lot], it’s because I’m focused on myself. How I feel. What I can get out of a situation, out of people, out of life. How I can be praised, looked up to, noticed, accepted. And if that’s all I’m seeking out in life then I am a petty, shallow failure. Who, if not careful, will end up alone with skeletons of tried and failed identities hanging in the closet.
I need to remember that this life isn’t about me. IT’S NOT ABOUT ME. It’s about so much more. About love, about sacrifice, about freedom. And those things aren’t found in personal identity, or in others. It’s so much more, so much deeper. It’s why I have a reason to sing. To cry and laugh. To struggle through life and be ok without the perfectly painted porcelain mask.
He is the reason why I sing. And so, in the darkest of nights, I choose to raise my voice. To embrace His identity as mine. And not the other way around.
So who am I? I think I know.
Do you?
