The identity doesn’t come from a thing that you are doing but from a journey that shaped you.
The world is changing constantly, family and hobbies comes and goes.
The most stable thing to root into are emotions. What are your best and worst days of your life and what do they mean as to who you are.
I am tealling from experience as to my indentity had been destroyed throughout my childhood and I needed to build it back up.
Stable: A stable equilibrium of many separate anchors so that the inevitable shakeups in facts or your understanding do not pose a problem you can’t cope with by drawing on the other anchors.
Monocultures are prone to collapse.
I find I have little use defining myself to myself. I am. I am lots of things. I have no box, and that doesn’t frighten me. If others need to fit me into a box so they can find my place in their personal classification system that helps them feel less or more at odds with the world, that’s okay. Sometimes annoying, but okay.
Sure I have a nature that I’ve discovered over time, some of which I nurture and some of which I try to rectify. But I still don’t feel that it’s a solid identity, but rather maybe a concept.
Yeah, I’m ME. That about covers it for me.
I think the writers on Ted Lasso got it pitch perfect with Jamie saying “Why would I want to be anything else, I’m me.”
Truth and reason. I think that would fall under the philosophy category. My view of the world is quite cold and analytical. I see it as a complex machine without any inherent meaning. I don’t believe in the self or free will, but rather see myself as an experiencer watching life unfold in front of me. Probably the biggest impact this has on my daily life is that I don’t look for people to blame for how things are. I don’t think most people realize how profoundly life changes when you stop pointing fingers.
When put like this, it probably sounds depressing or nihilistic, but it’s the only foundation I’ve found that aligns with every event in the world without causing internal conflict. I only care about how things are, not how I or others feel about them.
how profoundly life changes when you stop pointing fingers.
Ain’t that the truth. I can think of a couple of people in my life who would benefit from understanding this.
Granny Weatherwax looked out at the multi-layered, silvery world.
“Where am I?”
INSIDE THE MIRROR.
“Am I dead?”
THE ANSWER TO THAT, said Death, IS SOMEWHERE BETWEEN NO AND YES.
Esme turned, and a billion figures turned with her.
“When can I get out?”
WHEN YOU FIND THE ONE THAT’S REAL.
“Is this a trick question?”
NO.
Granny looked down at herself.
“This one,” she said.
— Sir Terry Pratchett, Witches Abroad
Personally I think my most stable sense of identity comes from wanting to remain the caring person I was as a kid. I remember vividly the first time I heard a news clip about the genocide in Darfur and wondering how all of the adults around me seemed so at ease. Adults are supposed to be the doers in the world, why weren’t they doing anything? Why didn’t they seam upset? I think trying my best to avoid the complacency I saw in them has played a large role in my sense of self.
I don’t love that this is a negative position (a struggle not to be something I don’t admire rather than to be something I admire)
I admire caring.
I root my identity in myself.
The rest is ornate and tightly interlocked window dressing.
As a man, it is by how much and what I could defy destiny.
Community, whatever that looks like for you. Each community has different values and ways of sharing.
For me, it’s performance art. The people I perform with are like a family to me, and I find joy in all the people I’ve directly affected and/or inspired ❤️
Indiana
I have Borderline Personality Disorder. One of the symptoms that I suffer from is the inability to form a solidified sense of self identity. Defining myself to even myself is impossible.
