I’m Having a “Who Am I?” Moment

I realize more and more that you can’t please everyone. No matter how hard you try to be the person you think someone else wants you to be, if you’re trying, you’re probably already failing.

These days, I find that, depending on who I’m spending time with, be it my sister, best friend, or boyfriend-of-the-moment, I subconsciously start to mimic those around me.

When I’m with my guy friends, I play the part of the “cool” girl who mocks silly, psycho women who take men too seriously. When I’m with my girl friends, I’m all “guys suck, here’s why” and moan their very existence. Around my parents, I project an image of sweet wholesomeness but then immediately strip that off to morph into an emotionally turbulent 20-something when I’m around those my own age. I’m healthy at work – making vegan lunches and snacking on nuts and seeds, only to chug beer and devour chocolate in the company of those who couldn’t care less about eating well.

And it gets worse.

My laugh will change to resemble the laugh of the person I’m laughing with. My voice will adjust to echo the pitch and timbre of the person I’m talking to. My words and opinions edit and shift to more closely match those of the company I keep.

99% of the time, I’m not even aware that I’m doing these things. But now I realize I regularly abandon pieces of myself and snatch up what I believe to be the best parts of others. In the moment, I never feel like I’m losing my sense of self or aiming to please. It doesn’t feel like I’m projecting “like me like me like me” into the universe, but maybe that's exactly what I'm doing.

Maybe I’ve been like Gretel dropping pieces of myself like breadcrumbs.

Now that I’m aware of this, this continual loss of self, does that make it a crime to continue? Should I be more tuned in to those times when my voice lowers or my laugh quickens? Should I quit it cold turkey? Or, should I just accept that who I am is contingent on those around me?

I think I adjust my demeanor to allow personal relationships room to flourish. I just hope I’m not sabotaging myself in my quest to please.

I don’t want to be the sum of other people’s actions. I want to be who I am based on what I think and what I feel. But sometimes, I’m not even sure what that is anymore.

What Would Your Mother Have to Say About This?

I like you. You’re an asshole. I’d like to have a chat with your mother.

I swear I’ve had these consecutive thoughts more times than I can count. What is WRONG with men in their twenties!?

It seems like every time someone comes along who is mildly entertaining, not brain dead, and knows how to take a shower, they feel entitled to behave like inconsiderate, egomaniacal jerks. I’m pretty sure this is a symptom of helicopter parents and/or the facebook “like” button. I mean, if a guy updates his status to something involving a burrito and gets ten likes and somewhere between one and three supportive comments, he’s obviously going to have a false sense of self.

So, allow me to enlighten you. YOU ARE NOT THAT GREAT.

A few loves ago, a guy ended things between us over the phone with this line: “I thought hanging out with you would be better than nothing but uhh…” Now, imagine my dumbfounded reaction. (Yes, he’s not-so-subtly informing me that time spent in my presence has become worse than nothing).

I can’t take it anymore.

What would his MOTHER have to say about this??

I am a nice, smart, thoughtful girl with a job. I live in a gorgeous apartment that I can actually afford in a fun neighborhood and I live with a roommate who is normal and non-creepy. I know these aren’t the only dating-qualifiers out there but, come on, I should be a catch.

So why do males feel like they can treat me like I’m less of a person than they are? Too many times now, I’ve found myself thinking, “If he were my son, I’d be mortified,” or “I’d send my kid to a therapist if he ever spoke to a girl this way,” or “my son would never do something like that.” I know that deep down these are nice boys from good families who don’t mean to be mean but then… they are.

A word of advice to guys out there. Think twice before you say something hurtful to a lady. Imagine a future generation of men saying the same thing to your precious, beautiful perfect daughter… if the sentence you’re about to utter would make future-you want to punch present-you in the face, there’s your clue to hit mute.

Musings on Self Worth

At summer camp when I was ten, I won a lot of medals. It was a big deal at the time and all the girls used to keep track of how many we all had to see who was in the lead. A medal meant you were eligible for the grand prize at the end of the summer in whichever category you medaled in. Basically, if you were a decent canoe-er, you’d be recognized for your talent and then the best canoe-er at the end of the summer would win the final canoe-ing award. Simple.

So when I was young, these many medals implied that I was well-rounded, generally athletic, and could carry a tune. I was proud of my faux-gold prizes (completely oblivious to how ridiculous I looked with them all dangling around my puny neck) and felt a burst of pride when others commented on how many I earned over the course of camp.

At the end of each summer though, my medals never seemed to lead to anything more. After two consecutive years of above-average medaling, I failed to earn a single one of the coveted “best” trophies. I felt robbed.

Today, I feel like not much has changed. There are lots of things I enjoy. I like reading and baking and running. I love playing guitar and singing and writing. I’m well-rounded, sure, but I’m not spectacular at any of these things, and my hobbies are just small ways to pass the time.

Running, for example, is the perfect way to stay in shape, meet people, and make friends with those who share a similar interest. But, my snail-like pace and inability to actually make it up a hill force me to stick to my solitary running routine every morning. In addition, I don’t have any burning desire to run a marathon and races in general feel like an imposition with their early morning arrival times and other unfortunate characteristics (port-a-potties, lack of parking, crowds, etc). Real runners want to race. They want the challenge and the personal satisfaction. They want to share their passion with others. I just don’t have the drive.

Ditto with guitar. Sure, I can play some basic chords and write cheesy lyrics a-la-taylor swift, but I’ll never be good enough (nor would I want to practice enough) to try out my music at an open mic night. Or even play live for people at all. The thought terrifies me.

This concerns me because it makes me feel like everything I do is a waste. Like, if a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear, does it make a sound? If I’m good but not great at a bunch of things, are they even worthwhile talents to possess? 

Sometimes I wish I’d focused on one thing – dedicated myself to an interest or a hobby when I was younger and really just run with it – so that today, I’d have something to show for my effort. If I’m not the smartest, or the prettiest, or the funniest, I’d like to at least be awesome at something.

Or maybe I’m just still figuring out what I have to offer the world. I guess that’s allowed.