Good morning, fine folks!
Coming to love myself was kind of hard — I’ve done some pretty shitty things I’m not proud of.
But I’ve always known who I am. I’ve never felt like I should be someone else or that I need to identify with some lofty something to be person.
Although in high school, I had an ongoing thought exercise on trading lives with the prettiest and richest, most popular girl in school — but I think everyone does that.
I’ve noticed, especially in my own generation, that a lot of people need to have this thing, this concept or idea… construct… they NEED to identify with to feel whole as a person.
I’ve never really experienced this. I’ve always known who I am — awkward, nerdy, pudgy, with horrible skin, a great sense of humor, curly hair, big brown eyes, INTP person.
I may not be having an identity crisis, but definitely an existential one.
I mean, I have two cats and I’m a little crazy, but I don’t identify as a crazy cat lady.
I have an anxiety disorder because my brain hates me, but I don’t identify as mentally ill.
Maybe it’s society’s need to label people to understand them?
I’ve never felt the need to “belong” to a specific group or faction to feel like a person.
Having never experienced this, I have a hard time empathizing with people whose locus of identity are just descriptors or adjectives, not them as a person.
For example — my freshman year of college, I was living with a friend who had this need to identify with a construct to feel like a person. Her identity was so focused on her external appearance and what other people thought of her, that she, herself, seemed lost.
She once asked me why I was her friend if I didn’t like her tattoo ideas or the novel she was writing.
First, I love tattoos… on other people. I have a thing about needles and images being permanently etched into my body.
Second, her novel read like bad Harry Potter meets Kill Bill plus Anne Rice fanfiction.
Sorry. It did.
But she was puzzled as to why I didn’t like the things she liked, but I still counted her as a friend. She was the type of person who identified as a goth, LGBTQ+, otaku, etc… every cliche you can think of.
But she was decent person and we had fun times…
We eventually parted company, but not because of her identity crisis — more like fucking someone in my bed.
That’s a deal killer.
But at the end of the day, I have to live with myself and what I think of myself. People come and go and their thoughts and opinions of you are like dust and fleeting shadows.
They mean nothing in the grand scheme of things.
But back to identity crisis and politics…
I just want to shake someone and tell them they are so much more than what they identify with. You are more than what you watch on TV, more than your occupation, you are more than who you have sex with, you are more than your disease, and you are more than you’re skin color, the place you are from, and you are more than who you associate with.
Instead of forcing interests based off of this construct, why not just be a good person?
Why do you have to be this thing, this idea, to be a person.
I mean, I have an autoimmune disease, but I don’t let it own me.
I had a shitty, shitty childhood, but it doesn’t define me.
Maybe I’m missing something?
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