I’ve been struggling with this lately. I guess, during a period of change, we all question who we are and what we’re up to in the world, but when someone flat-out asks: “So, who are you? What’s your story?” What do you say?
It used to be easy: I’m Doc and Estelle’s youngest daughter.
Then, I was: A journalism student.
Shortly after that, I was: Underpaid, overworked 20-something who spent far too many weeknights out on the town, where I achieved “We don’t approve of your lifestyle” from aforementioned Doc and Ma.
Then, the real truth set in:
- Hi, I’m Beth, and I’m a workaholic.
- Hi, I’m Beth, and I’m an obsessive perfectionist.
- Hi, I’m Beth, and I’m a graphic designer.
I stuck with this one for a long time, even after I was doing other stuff. Somehow the “making things look good on paper” made more sense than describing all of what I do. But then, it’s what I DO, not what I am.
Last night, when I joined some old college friends as their sub for Euchre Night, I was the only single, childless person in the room…. of 30. Yikes!
Other than catching up with Scott and Mel, I had little to add to the conversations about babysitting, carpooling, curfews for teens, which inlaws hosted Thanksgiving (and who wouldn’t be included at Christmas).
But it made me think. How do I identify now?
- I’m a dedicated friend, aunt, sister, and daughter. I’m still Doc and Ma’s baby girl. Some things don’t change.
- I’m a woman working to achieve a healthy life, through diet, exercise, and attitude.
- I’m a paleo newbie (two months today and happy with the choice.)
- I’m a masochist. The only way to describe how I keep going back to the gym for more expected contortions, soreness and sweat. Yeah, I admit it.
So, who are you? What’s your story?