Months ago when I was still living with my wife and her parents, my mother-in-law asked me if I liked a particular food one night. For the life of me I can’t remember what it was but I do remember that it’s not a food I’m particularly fond of. I told her that I would eat it which prompted my wife to exclaim, “That is not my husband.”
Some time later she told me I was a different person than I used to be and that she didn’t know me anymore. Considering that just a few months prior she had left me because of who I was I thought that was a good thing, but evidently I was wrong.
Since last August, I’ve had my heart and world shattered, depression literally made me sick (as in, couldn’t keep food down and lost 30 lbs), got treated for it, began recognizing and addressing my faults, tried to fix my marriage only to have my heart shattered again (and then turn immediately to stone), and gone through many ups and downs with depression as circumstances change.
Just last week I was flying high. I was happy. I was in a generally good mood and not much got me down. This week I’m miserable. The glass is half empty. Everything sucks. There’s no hope. Why bother? Who cares? Fuck the world.
I wrote a poetic duet with Miss Hasty yesterday and afterwords I received an email. “You are not this person,” it said. “Right now I am,” was my response. But then I got to thinking…who am I? And then I realized I don’t have the slightest fucking clue. One minute I’m cheerful and joking the next minute I’m somber and morose. And the shitty thing is that I have no fucking control over it. It’s like some fucked up Magic 8-Ball for my moods. Every time I move a different side of me is unearthed.
Furthermore, I don’t even know how to discover who I am. There are things I’m certain of. I’m a good father, but is that part of who I am or is that just something I am? I know what type of music I like, but is that really part of who I am? Is my goofy sense of humor part of who I am or a symptom of my depression? A mechanism to deflect all of the things I don’t want to deal with? Is my depression who I am or does it just define me? Do I even want it to define me? Why am I being defined?
Is who you are defined by how you act? Your characteristics? The things you enjoy? The clothes you wear? The things you do? The things you say? Is it all of those things? Is it none of those things? I have no idea. Or is a person constantly evolving? Does nobody stay the same? I’m not the same person I was a year ago. Hell, I’m not even the same person I was three months ago.
Someone help me find me. Help me find who I am. Help me discover myself. Help me know me. Help me find out just who I am, because I’m clueless If the people that know me best don’t even recognize me what does that mean?