Last week, we talked about the fact that you are all you need, and that you have the ability to be the person you want to be.
And that’s all fine and good…but…who are you exactly? What do you want to be? What is your identity? If someone put a gun to your head and told you to write down exactly who you are, could you do it beyond screaming and saying that you’re a people person who loves to laugh?
I’m not sure that I could. My first instinct would be to tell you that I’m an improvisor, that I’m a writer, that I run a photography business. That I am married and I have two dickhead cats and a dog that tries to shove her whole head in your mouth when you yawn. That my favorite movie is A League Of Their Own.
Is that an identity? Is that ‘who I am?’
To be honest, I feel stupid even asking this question of myself. Who am I? Well, why the fuck does it matter outside of an interview with Oprah that will now never happen because she retired and I am nowhere near famous? I feel like a hipster telling my mom and dad that I just need to ‘find myself.’
Here’s the thing though–we need to ask this question of ourselves. We need to know who we are, what we are about, or we risk going through our entire lives without any direction at all.
We’ve all seen those people who seem to be that glaze-eyed fish in the school, just sort of going on along with everyone else but having no real opinion of themselves or others or the world at large. They live their lives aimlessly, they get somewhere, but is it even really worth it?
As stupid as I feel for asking myself, “Who are you, Noa Gavs? What is your identity?” I feel even sicker about living aimlessly and without real purpose.
So that’s what we’re talking about this month. Who are we? How did we get to the realization of who we are? What do we do with it when we know? What happens when we feel our identity changes?
Bitches, sound off–who are you?