The Struggle of Who am I

Who am I? Honestly, I don’t know. Am I my ideas, or am I my behaviour, or a combination of both? Or so much more.

I wouldn’t know what to say about me if someone asked me to describe myself. My perception of even my physical appearance is distorted. I am still struggling with my identity.

I just keep wondering if it is everybody or it's just me, or this is just us minority and nobody really gets it. The turmoil in my mind as I try to come to terms with the vastness between how I see myself and how others see me; but I think how I think others see me is also tainted by my own opinions of me. 

(where am I going with this?)

Let’s simplify it.

Until a certain point in my life, I think I was a confident little girl. I don’t remember having trouble approaching people, talking in front of a crowd, or even performing in front of a crowd. But I was always sensitive, and was even named “runchi” (cry baby) by a neighbour when I was young because I would cry so easily and so often. (To be honest, I still do, I probably just hide it better). I was sensitive to almost everything: raised voices, criticisms, slightest of insults, perceived rejections.

Then there was a time, an incident I can very clearly remember, after which the sensitive part of me started over-ruling everything, and slowly my confidence dissolved. Then it was one incident after another, one bad memory after another. And then when I attained menarche, I gained a lot of weight. The criticism about my body started, it was one person, then another and another. Now that I recollect, it was always adults. Always. 

I was a teenager. I was fat. I was ugly. I was insecure.  I had this huge inferiority complex; I saw myself lesser than everyone, in everything.

Now that I think back, I had strength. I was tough. But I didn’t feel it so much then. I can’t remember the number of times I cried because I hated myself. How often I asked god 'why?'! I can’t remember the number of nights in a row for years I went to bed hoping I wouldn’t wake up the next morning. 

I came up with principles to endure it. Reading helped, it not only provided with an escape but presented to me different perspectives to things, introduced me to resilient characters. Scarlet O’Hara from Gone with the Wind will always be an inspiration to me- “I will not think about it today. I will think about it tomorrow.” This thought has helped me through so many situations. I still apply it, and often when you postpone to think about certain things for tomorrow, you see it in a new light, and it often turns out to be not as important or big as you thought it to be at the time. 

I was filled with self-doubt, and to combat that I made myself think over and over again “If others can, why can’t I?” My father believed in trying more than anything else. Thus, I tried. I failed. I tried again. I won’t tell you I succeeded. I went through so many embarrassing moments but I did not stop trying. There had to be light at the end of the tunnel. 

Did I ever succeed? In my head…. NO. always a big resounding no. 

Did I get over my insecurities, my inferiorities?

I am in a profession where I have to interact with people all the time, and a lot of these people are strangers. Talking to them for me is like a mini-performance. Even talking to people I do know is like a mini-performance, sometimes even more so, because I constantly feel judged: about the way I talk, things I say, ideas and opinions I endorse, about the way I laugh, about the way I look, even about just being me, just existing. Do they really judge me? God knows! Everyone is probably going through their own tumultuous thoughts and have no time to spare for me, but I can’t stop feeling the way I feel. 

Imagine being up on stage, performing, for a crowd, albeit small, to see and judge you, all day long. That’s how I feel each day. It’s exhausting!!  By the time I am home, I am just aching to find an escape, in movies, novels, songs or just sleep. 

And there are days that I just cannot put up a show. 

Don’t get me wrong, I love what I am doing, I can’t imagine doing anything else, but sometimes when I pause to think, I can’t imagine how I am doing what I am doing. 

And again, don’t get me wrong, I am not necessarily complaining. My life is perfect: I have an amazing family, surrounded by awesome friends, I have found an exceptional life partner and luck has mostly been on my side. My life has been one smooth ride. It’s me that I have problems with. It’s the demons in my head that I struggle with. 

Also, I am not an exception to common-place vices, like procrastination, complacency, laziness and they perfectly compliment my unique personality faults and make me even more useless. 

Aging has helped. I am more comfortable with being me. My insecurities and inferiority have not passed, but I have learned to accept it. But growing up has also made it worse, I cannot run away when I can’t do it, I don’t have the liberty of escape anymore. 

And I have learned that to an observer, there is a very thin line between arrogance and awkwardness. I have often been called arrogant. In my head I am thinking, I wish I were. To me, I am only trying to fight my own demons and survive. 

In the end, my question is, when people see me, do they see all of this or something else? Which one am I? Who am I? 

(Explaining this was very difficult. I feel like I am asking for pity. I am not. I am only seeking to understand and be understood).