Still faking. Still hiding.
I am a projection. A mirage. I hide behind desperate attempts at normalcy, clenching onto a twisted sense of inclusion. I have been doing this my entire life, suppressing who I was or who I could become so that I would be more acceptable.
So, as it turns out, I still don’t know who I am. And with two decades now under my belt, I have come to the conclusion that I don’t know who I want to be.
The answers to life’s most basic questions elude me: What are my deepest desires, my wildest dreams?
Part of me is afraid to answer these questions, because deep down inside, I know that I am not good enough.
I see you before you ever see me. I take note of the way you walk, what you are wearing, and how you look.
From there, I become someone else. I become what I think you want me to be. I put out an image that I hope will say to you: I am normal. I am one of you.
Except, I am not.
Because to be honest, I don’t know how to belong. I don’t know how to let myself exist without worrying that the comfort of belonging will soon be gone when others find out who I really am.
So again, who am I?
Questions of my core identity had always focused on whom I was attracted to and not who I was as a person.
The world’s obsession with my sexuality turned into my own obsession with my sexuality.
Why was I constantly asked if I had a girlfriend or if I was gay? What about the questions that revealed my heart?
Why wasn’t the world interested in my heart?
So here I am, two decades under my belt, asking for you to tell me who I am. But I know life doesn’t work that way. I must find myself. Rather, I must uncover myself.
Says Richard Rohr:
“LIFE is not a matter of CREATING a special name for ourselves, but UNCOVERING the name we have always had.”
I have lived a quarter of a century. And I still want to know me.
Do you resonate with this feeling: I still don’t know who I am? Do you know who you are? What are some things that make you you?
* Photo courtesy, Matthew Hurst, Creative Commons.