How I Do Not Define Myself

I typed "defining myself" in Google's search engine and this is what popped up. It's a blog entry from Psychscribe and to me, it speaks volumes. I write, I dress, I love Jay-Z, I sit in my room for hours with my television off [radio playin occassionally] before I actually decide to step out and co-exist. ...but does this define who I am? To me, it's merely a description. I am comprised of many things, most of which aren't visible to the naked eye. ...so how does one define who they are? ...is it possible to place a definition on humans [eclectic beings].

If a prostitute thinks about sex all day and virgin does the same, are they the same?

...How are we to distinguish a definition from a description?
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So how do we define ourselves? I posted that question when I started this blog. I asked if it was by our roles, our relationships, our work… I didn’t get many responses and I can see why – that’s not exactly an easy answer! Sounds like it ought to be the topic of a term paper. So I think its only fair to muse a bit on this myself…

When I was a child, of course it was by relationship. I was a daughter. An extension of my mother and father and my wonderful extended family. I was also an avid reader and writer from the first day I learned to sound out my phonics. Later I became a friend, a wife, a mother, and a Christian. And those relational definitions of myself satisfied me for many years. But then depression crept in like a cold dark fog, and with it a long, long search for my own identity. I wanted a definition of myself created by myself, not one that I had blindly accepted from my culture. I began to feel that those roles did not define me…they described me.

So then I went through a phase of believing you are what you do. I mean I really did believe that. I went back to school , pregnant with my second child, and I was also a student. And that satisfied me for a while. I felt a lot better about myself, because I am an intelligent person and I liked that label. I defined myself as a learner. I also had to read and write a lot, which was what I’d had a passion for from the age of six.

But sooner or later, I had to graduate. And off I went into my occupation, degree in hand, a “professional”. Now I know who I am, I thought. When the buzz died I continued, and continue, to take more postgraduate training. And I still get that buzz from learning. The only thing is….I’ve also learned that my occupation does not define me either. I am not what I do. True, the occupation I’ve chosen says some things about the kind of person I am, but it doesn’t define me.

All I know for sure is that I am a wife, a mother, a friend, a therapist, a learner, a writer, an artist, a soul searcher, and a Christian. But none of those define me. How can they? Isn’t the human soul greater than the sum of its parts?
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....Food for Thought

xoxo