Ever since I can remember I’ve struggled to find my place…within my family, my peers, my colleagues, even my culture. Because of this, I feel that I’ve forgotten who I really am, or worse, maybe I’ve never given myself the opportunity to find out. I feel as if through the years, I’ve played different characters in this story we call life. Growing up I was the confused middle child. I’ve been the teacher’s pet, the nerd, the weirdo, the depressing one, the happy one, the funny one. I feel like I’ve played them all except the ones that I really long to be…the wife, the mother, the inspirational one.
I believe everyone knows their basic likes and dislikes, but do we really spend the time thinking about what we want out of life? I don’t think I ever have. Sure, I’ve made up some interesting nonsense when asked deep philosophical questions on applications or at various interviews, but I’m not sure I’ve ever really believed any of it. I was once asked what I was passionate about…I couldn’t answer that question on the spot. I thought about it over the next couple of days, and I came up with...nothing. I decided that maybe I’m just not a passionate person. Another time, I was asked to write down my personal philosophy. Again…nothing. I ended up asking friends theirs and just combined and reworded them to make a statement that I thought others would find acceptable.
So now I’m sitting here thinking about this title, “Being Just Me” and I wonder if I really know how to do that. I’ve given up on pretending to fit in to some extent, but I still find myself trying to please everyone. I want to be the good daughter, the great teacher, the dependable sister; but I realize that I fall short in every category. I’ve decided to focus on getting to know myself this year. I feel that writing is good start. Who knows, maybe I’ll even discover my passion, my personal philosophy, or if nothing else…I’ll know how to be just me.