It’s my birthday this week, and as I mark off another year, I’ve been thinking about who I am.
The question leaves me a bit stumped, which panics me slightly. Surely during my 30-something years on this planet, being myself nearly the whole time, I should be able to tell you who I am?
I can tell you my name, where I live, where I came from, what I look like, what job I do, what I like (and don’t like) to eat.
I can also tell you what my relationships are with the people around me…I’m a partner, sister, daughter, friend, colleague and mummy to a fur-baby.
I could tell you some of my attributes, I’m kind, compassionate, honest, trustworthy and reasonably bright. I’m also moody (especially when hungry or tired), messy, a bit selfish and, I’m told, highly strung.
I could tell you some things I’m not. I’m not adventurous (as this previous blog post can attest). I’m not mean, or a bully, or a Corbyn fan. I’m not especially into music or films or video games.
The problem with all of this is that none of it really sums me up, and is definitely not succinct enough to be a proper answer. It’s also too general; in some situations I may not be honest and I can be completely selfless.
Perhaps it’s a good thing. Knowing who I am might stop me from becoming something else…and sometimes what I already know about myself stops me from doing stuff I really want to do, for better or worse.
Perhaps if I “found” myself I would stop looking. Stop being open to new possibilities or ideas.
So having set out to be more certain about who I am, what I believe and what I want, I have decided that the best way is to be utterly uncertain and open to modification.
Here’s to being a human being, not a Human Being.