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Questioning identity: Who am I, really?

"Beneath the lives we see are the lives that are really lived, complete and utterly unknown."

- Judith Freeman, The Chinchilla Farm (p.163)

I usually don't have any trouble with beginnings in my research and writing practice (it's endings that are my undoing). However, trouble with beginnings has led to some down-time from The Significance Project. I could say that I've been quiet with the project for a while because I'm #listening and #learning. And, I am doing those things. But, truthfully, I've sat down to write a half dozen times in the last week and stared plaintively at a blinking cursor on a white screen. I close my eyes, and open them. The cursor continues to blink. Why does the cursor have to be so demanding? It almost feels like it's mocking me with its' impatience.


I have struggled this past week, evidenced by how I'm attributing the computer screen cursor with human-like consciousness and the capacity to tease me. In truth, I've struggled with more than just writing. I've had a seven-day-long headache, which began as a migraine, then downgraded to a dull throb, then amped up again to migraine status. I've tried every conceivable combination of headache drugs, homeopathic strategies, essential oils, yoga, relaxation techniques, and meditation to try and get rid of it, but it persists. At this point, I'm sure that my head is trying to tell me something.


I have also felt something else, maybe an emotion, maybe six or seven. Sad? Discouraged? Frustrated? For someone who prides herself on emotional intelligence, the identification of my current emotional state is not going well; in fact, I'm sure that my emotionally stunted (but otherwise lovely) spouse could likely do better. I'm pretty certain that it's not depression or anxiety, as I've had plenty of experience identifying how those things feel in my body. All I know for sure is that the headache pain has forced me to disengage from trying to get stuff done and instead to surrender to what I feel like doing in any given moment. So, at least the productivity demons are being slayed, or perhaps just thwarted for now. One of the only things I've felt like doing with my addled brain is reading--but just fiction, and absolutely nothing academically inclined or remotely connected to self-improvement. I'm averaging a novel a day.


Interestingly, I'm finding that the stories other people tell are helping me to understand my own narrative. The novels that I've burned through have been subjected to so many dog-eared pages that any librarian I know would be mortified. The pages I'm marking seem to collectively represent variations on a theme, mostly centered around the notion of identity. One of the books I've read is called The Chinchilla Farm, by Judith Freeman. It's all about memory and how the ways that we remember influence how we carve out our identity. The quote that leads this blog is one of my favorites from the book: "Beneath the lives we see are the lives that are really lived, complete and utterly unknown." And thus the photo of the snail I encountered on my walk today, which sports a colorful hard shell that reveals nothing of the squishy, mucous-y, gastropod underneath.


This book, and especially this quote, made me question what I think I know about my identity. Is what I believe to be true about myself the same as what others see? Am I even aware of what lies beneath, of the private pieces of my identity that are all my own? I feel like I have struggled so much to even put my finger on what I like to do, what makes me feel passionate about life. But I realize now that that isn't quite true. I know what lights a fire in me; I just can't figure out how to do those things and have a job and care for myself and care for my family and meet my adult responsibilities all at the same time. The struggle is not with understanding myself, it is with understanding myself in relation to the world around me. I would like my private identity to be reflective of my public identity, but I'm not sure how to make that happen.


I feel like this might be a bend in the road for me. Not "the answer," for sure, but at least a hint about where my effort might be best invested. I'm not sure if I will be able to make this alignment of public and private identities a reality, as it is (sadly) not all within my control. Apparently, sometimes you just have to have faith that things will work out. This is why I think I'll read and write about faith next, a concept that has been historically challenging and problematic for me. So if you're one of those people who knows how to have faith, religious or otherwise, please let me know--I have lots of learning to do with you.




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