We are often encouraged to simply, be ourselves. This, based on the frequency of the message, is clearly a challenge for many. We hear it from our elders when we are young. We hear it as teenagers, as the message encourages our uniqueness. We hear it in early adulthood, mostly as encouragement to purchase a specific product, or brand. Even into adulthood we hear this direction so often that is has become cliché.
As easy as it is to say the phrase, I think it’s extremely difficult to actually “be yourself.”
I can recall coming back from living overseas in China for five years. I was twelve years old, and going into eighth grade, essentially a year younger than anyone else. I can still recall with great lucidity, how unfathomably fear-struck I was preparing for school. It had been five years since I’d finished second grade, in an American school. I truly knew no one, though I did have mild recollections of several friends. A five-year span, after all, at that stage, was almost half a lifetime. It was more than enough time to make me a complete stranger. So, my father gave me some advice.
“Just be yourself, people will like you for who you are.”
This was excellent advice. And it was more than enough to bolster my self-confidence. I strode into school, fortified and ready to befriend everyone.
Within the first year, I was ridiculed, mocked, shunned, and ostracized. I had a handful of supportive, if unpopular friends. I had defended myself in a fight during gym class, and was then essentially assaulted outside of home room at three to one odds, resulting in my, in front of the entire class, humiliating and tear-laden request to use the bathroom.
For me these, and many others, were tough lessons to learn. No doubt many have experiences such as these when trying to figure out who they are. Some of the self-molding events are far less drastic. Some experiences, I imagine, are far worse..
It seemed, that just being myself, wasn’t going to do me any social favors. At that stage of life, social considerations were vastly important. So, I committed to turning my image around.
For the next ten years or so, I went looking, for myself. I tried different friends, different vices, different relationships, and different versions of myself. I sought many sources of inspiration, and many people’s advice on who, and what would make me feel complete in myself. All of these ways that I thought I was being myself though, I wasn’t, I was being what I thought other people would like, or accept.
It is challenging to “be yourself.” There is such a bend and longing to please other people, or to sacrifice who you are to please those attentive of you. This approach though, I’ve found, rarely results in our satisfaction. Mostly, the results are an extremely guilty, vacuous feeling of capitulation.
Eventually, I became aware of myself. I found what allowed me to confidently say “this is who I am.” I found what allowed me say who I am without having to fret over someone elses validation, or to need another’s say so before I allowed myself to feel a certain way.
This is not to say that I feel absolutely complete right at this moment. Wholeness and completeness to me also includes a goal, a drive, and a perpetual motivation. Being comfortable with, and knowing myself, doesn’t necessarily mean complacency. This feeling implies a longing for more than what I currently am, even if that simply means a better understanding of what I already know.
Being myself also involves pain and hardship. It involves trying do deal with a lot on my own, because I don’t want to feel like a burden to others. It involves deeply caring about those close to me. It often mean being misunderstood. It involves unabashedly baring my soul. It involves an intense appreciation for music and a dedication to playing guitar. It involves confidence in who I am despite critical opinion and undue judgement. It involves standing behind an idea despite ridicule. It involves integrity, in the face of a world that has forgotten the word. It involves leading my life, one that may not fit societal norms, in a way that I feel comfortable. It means asking a lot of love, and little at the same time. It means expecting more of the world, and of people, and not being ashamed of that. It means feeling deeply, passionately, emotionally, and honestly. It involves giving, and giving, and giving, and getting a little back. It involves gliding upon waves of hope and despair, instead of lying on the beach, and treating them like crushing annoyances on an otherwise placid shore.
And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Humbly yours,
J
P.S. Being me also involves a strong distaste for my own pictures. Don’t ask me why. I’ve never been able to explain what makes me odd about my own pictures. But, as I’m sharing so much else of who I am, this feels appropriate.
