One of my goals is to write my memoir. I don’t have a solid timeline for this, but it is definitely on the bucket list. Recently, I stumbled on some advice for aspiring memoirists that resonated with me beyond my desire to write my story. The advice was to ask yourself, “Who am I in this story?” instead of “Who am I?”
I have been asking myself the latter question my whole life. Who exactly am I? This shattered sense of self came from many different experiences. To sum it up, I never really felt like I fit in. I was afraid to allow my authentic self to shine.
Therapy has helped tamp down the anxiety around this question, but has never really helped me fully answer the question. But maybe, I have just been asking myself the wrong question.
Instead of trying to figure out who I am as a whole, I could ask myself. Who am I in the various stories from my life?
I examine the collective of all my life experiences. I cannot say I am always playing the same role. Of course not. Sometimes, I have been the victim, sometimes the victor. Sometimes, I have been the student, and sometimes, the teacher. Sometimes, I have been strong, and sometimes, I have been weak.
I am learning that needing help one day doesn’t mean I am “needy” or “incompetent.” Just because I can do a lot of things myself doesn’t mean I never need help.
In every chapter of my story, I expect to see a different facet of myself. Each part of my whole self will come forward. And this is something to be honored… not feared.
Intersections 