identity
reflection
Who are You, Again?
WANTED:
White blond young adult female presenting. Medium height and slightly heavier build. Spends some time reading but more on Instagram and podcasts. Avoids texting her friends. Stays up at night worrying about the changes coming in the future.
This woman is dangerous and emotionally damaging and needs to be contained. Bring her in at your own risk. Last seen 4 years ago looking at a text which reportedly said that she needed to stop sending out “needy vibes” and that “God does want her to have friends.”
My first three weeks of college I got really stuck in this vortex. The last time I had a chance to really start over was when I was entering LCA in sixth grade. In elementary school, I was the shy girl, but I started to grow more and more away from that throughout middle school. By high school, I doubt any of my Burlington classmates would have recognized who I was. Then suddenly I was in a new state with 2 people out of 900 who had known me, and I had the chance to redefine myself. I questioned a lot of things—my own ability to make friends, the level of engagement I was going to have in college, if I should have looked at other schools—but after my mom gave me a “come to Jesus” text, I settled in.
White blond young adult female presenting. Medium height and slightly heavier build. Spends some time reading but more on Instagram and podcasts. Avoids texting her friends. Stays up at night worrying about the changes coming in the future.
This woman is dangerous and emotionally damaging and needs to be contained. Bring her in at your own risk. Last seen 4 years ago looking at a text which reportedly said that she needed to stop sending out “needy vibes” and that “God does want her to have friends.”
I just worked my first week of camp, the same summer job I’ve been working for the last five years. I know the routine, I know my coworkers, and I know generally what my day is going to look like—spending 7 hours entertaining five-year-olds. I also know that I’ll be exhausted by 9 o’clock and asleep by 10. But night after night this week, I laid awake stressing about whether teaching is what I’m meant to be doing and about what it is going to be like to live in Grand Rapids and if I’m going to live there long term or let myself up and leave to a completely new place. It was super frustrating, and by Thursday night I realized I couldn’t sleep because I had something to say, something that’s been bubbling up this month despite my best efforts to ignore it.
I’ve realized that I really really suck at dealing with major changes. I seem to turn into this anxious and clingy monster who can’t believe that she has changed middle school and wonders how she is pulling off this heist of stealing everyone’s feelings. It’s partly imposter syndrome—I lay awake at night thinking, “I don’t know good strategies to teach students how to read”—but a part of it is that with every new major transition I have, I feel the pressure to reform my identity. For some people this may be freeing; for me, it’s debilitating.
I’ve realized that I really really suck at dealing with major changes. I seem to turn into this anxious and clingy monster who can’t believe that she has changed middle school and wonders how she is pulling off this heist of stealing everyone’s feelings. It’s partly imposter syndrome—I lay awake at night thinking, “I don’t know good strategies to teach students how to read”—but a part of it is that with every new major transition I have, I feel the pressure to reform my identity. For some people this may be freeing; for me, it’s debilitating.
My first three weeks of college I got really stuck in this vortex. The last time I had a chance to really start over was when I was entering LCA in sixth grade. In elementary school, I was the shy girl, but I started to grow more and more away from that throughout middle school. By high school, I doubt any of my Burlington classmates would have recognized who I was. Then suddenly I was in a new state with 2 people out of 900 who had known me, and I had the chance to redefine myself. I questioned a lot of things—my own ability to make friends, the level of engagement I was going to have in college, if I should have looked at other schools—but after my mom gave me a “come to Jesus” text, I settled in.
I’m in the vortex again. I’m questioning all I learned in college, if I learned anything about education, whether I’m qualified at all, if I want the job that I’m committed to now, and whether it was the right choice to be in Massachusetts for the summer and be in Grand Rapids for the rest of the year. It’s hard for me to move on from being a student and shedding that identity without stepping straight into the identity I’ve been picturing myself in—English teacher. Instead, I’m in the nebulous fog of post-grad first jobs and exploring the job market and figuring out how to make friends in new social circles. I need a new identity, but I’m not starting my job for another month. So instead I just get to stress about whether I fit that mold or not.
The lesson I should be taking away from this is that I need to ground my identity in something outside of myself and draw comfort from that—i.e. see myself as a Christian first and foremost and let everything else be secondary. That idea is much easier said than done.
What I am taking away from this is what popped into my head during church this morning, which was, “This place is not meeting my needs fully.” I love Massachusetts and I love being home this summer, but in all honesty I’m glad I’m not staying here. I need the city, I need my church, and I need my housemates. I know even if my job isn’t perfect and even if there could have been a perfect one elsewhere I’m still going to learn and grow and be supported in Grand Rapids. There are people there who know me as an adult and are ready to help me cultivate new interests and new skills as I step out even further into independent living, and I’m so grateful that I know I have that support.
I’m struggling with seeing who I am fully, but maybe instead of stressing out about nailing my self-identity down in stone, I can trust the kaleidoscope of my identities that you all present back to me. Easier said than done but still something to strive for.
I have recommendations, but I don’t really want to write down why and honestly I’ve probably already told you about them. Watch Fleabag, listen to The Anthropocene Reviewed, and read Oceanic by Aimee Nezhukumatathil.
The lesson I should be taking away from this is that I need to ground my identity in something outside of myself and draw comfort from that—i.e. see myself as a Christian first and foremost and let everything else be secondary. That idea is much easier said than done.
What I am taking away from this is what popped into my head during church this morning, which was, “This place is not meeting my needs fully.” I love Massachusetts and I love being home this summer, but in all honesty I’m glad I’m not staying here. I need the city, I need my church, and I need my housemates. I know even if my job isn’t perfect and even if there could have been a perfect one elsewhere I’m still going to learn and grow and be supported in Grand Rapids. There are people there who know me as an adult and are ready to help me cultivate new interests and new skills as I step out even further into independent living, and I’m so grateful that I know I have that support.
I’m struggling with seeing who I am fully, but maybe instead of stressing out about nailing my self-identity down in stone, I can trust the kaleidoscope of my identities that you all present back to me. Easier said than done but still something to strive for.
I have recommendations, but I don’t really want to write down why and honestly I’ve probably already told you about them. Watch Fleabag, listen to The Anthropocene Reviewed, and read Oceanic by Aimee Nezhukumatathil.
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