My fingers stroke the keys and my thoughts fill the blank page. I’m redecorating the rooms of my memory as I write my story. I remove all the pictures and paintings from the walls. I paint each wall with the appropriate color – brilliant sky blue for these memories, angry red for those, grey for the others, and black for a select few. Then, no matter how hard I try, I can’t get the framed thoughts and emotions back on the walls the way they were before.
As I write, and as I allow myself to recall the tiny details that have been ME, I realize that many of my memories, for better or worse, have somehow been a little off. I’ve remembered this thing or that…people, places, and events…as happening a certain way or at a certain time. I start to analyze timelines and faces. I start putting it together in a somewhat different light. I realize that some of my photos have been crooked all along.
Who am I, really?
Cooley said “I am not who you think I am; I am not who I think I am; I am who I think you think I am”. Is this true?
Please share your thoughts below. I’d love to hear what you think about who we really are.
I think mostly people are who others think they are. I think it takes a strong person to decide who they are without the traditional outside societal influences telling them who they should be. I have seen people become different when someone believed that they weren’t who everyone was telling them they were. Just my thoughts. Thanks for sharing Brad!
But is “Who am I?” even a meaningful question? What do I like to do, or what makes me mad, or what makes me happy, but is there really an answer for “Who am I?”
Thanks for commenting Kevin! And great question.
I think about this often. I believe we all identify with the things we do and the things we like. But is that really who we are? I believe deep down, there’s a ME that’s solid and secure and immune to my daily likes and dislikes. I may do all those things and like all those things, but those external things aren’t truly ME. They may help others define me, and many times I use them to define myself, but if I stop doing or liking those things…does ME really change too?
It’s the same as my question above. If memories of my childhood change under closer inspection, does that change who I am, or who I was, or who I thought I was? Or, is there a ME somewhere inside that just IS?
I have been thinking about this sentiment, being secure in our person and more recently. I read in “Attached” that “The more effectively dependent we are on others, the more independent and daring we become”. So then, what if “effectively dependent”? We are only as needy as our unmet need. If we can have our emotional needs met, then we can turn outwards more easily and be true to ourselves, own our emotions and insecurities and be who we want to be. Not who we think others think we are. The true introspection need to know who we want to be and show up as that person is not easy. I am only part where there, but I am on the path. Follow the yellow brick road. I guess I am off to see the Wizard, the wonderful Wizard of Oz.
Just reading back over these. Thanks for this comment, Jason. I hope you’ve realized…you are the Wizard 🙂