Who am I?

The Question That Changes Everything

Do you remember completing one of those school projects designed to help you think about your future career and finances? In 5th grade, we were assigned a Career & Salary Exploration assignment. I chose two possible careers for the project: prosecutor and model. Then I asked myself, why not both?

I know now that this is a core memory of mine because it shaped my self-perception in response to others’ comments. Additionally, it was the beginning of the idea of self-identity.

Later, during a college assignment, I was asked to write something about myself. At the time, I was already married. What I wrote was so significant to me that I still have this paper, “Who Am I?” In it, I referred to the 5th-grade project, and I wrote that the two chosen career fields were unlikely because I was “not” very academically oriented and that I was “definitely not” a physically beautiful child. One of those comments came from my best friend when I was twelve. When I said I wanted to be a model, she laughed. I remember her saying I could never be a model because I had crooked teeth and was too dark. Have you ever accepted someone else's opinion of you as if it were a fact?

As a visual, I created a pie chart divided into three sections: Me, Family, and Career. Beneath it, I wrote that there were three people struggling to get out - the personal me, the family me, and the career me.

Looking back, I am struck by how I recognized this tension at such a young age.

I knew early on that I controlled my future. Yet, the beliefs about myself dictated my approach. I felt the only control I had was regarding my career. And even that changed from what I originally planned.

Up through my early forties, I struggled to be everything to everyone – a mother, a wife, a daughter, a boss, an employee, a friend, a this and a that for this person and that person. It seemed like I had everything and wanted for nothing. And yet, there was something unsettling in my soul. I was tired, and under the pretense of happiness, I was somehow losing myself. Was it my faith? I didn't think so. I felt close to my Lord and would often pray for understanding. When everything appears perfect on the outside, the parts of ourselves we've ignored often begin demanding attention. This can result in a form of self-sabotage, when it should be seen as an invitation to grow beyond the life we’ve outgrown. Of course, at the time, I did not realize this was happening.

(Recommended Read: The Big Leap: Conquer Your Hidden Fear and Take Life to the Next Level by Gay Hendricks.)

I attended the funeral of a man who had served in the military, later became an attorney, and eventually became a judge. He had two wives. And I thought to myself, “How did he get to live three lives?” I enjoyed my current life, and yet… I wanted something for myself. What that was, I did not know. I was brought up to believe that wanting anything for myself was selfish.

But for the first time, I wondered if a person could reinvent themselves more than once. More importantly, I wondered if I was allowed to.

Women are often taught, directly or indirectly, to define themselves through their relationships with others. We become mothers, wives, daughters, caregivers, leaders, and friends. We learn to anticipate others' needs and often place them before our own.

Over time, those roles become part of our identity.

The mind is constantly trying to maintain consistency between who we believe we are and how we behave. When our actions no longer align with what we truly need, want, or value, an internal tension can develop. Sometimes we feel this tension because we are growing beyond an identity we've outgrown. Other times, we feel it because we are trying so hard to be who others need us to be that we've lost connection with ourselves. Psychologists call this cognitive dissonance.

I didn't know that term at the time.

What I knew was that something inside me was changing.

Part of me wanted to continue being the person everyone expected me to be. Another part was beginning to ask questions.

What did I want?

Who was I outside of the roles I performed for others?

Could I be grateful for the life I had built and still desire something more?

And perhaps the most uncomfortable question of all:

What happens when the person you believe you should be begins to conflict with the person you are becoming?

As I look back, I realize the question was never whether I was a good wife, mother, daughter, leader, employee, or friend.

The question was whether I knew who I was beyond those roles.

For years, my identity was built around what I could provide, accomplish, or become for others. There is nothing wrong with loving and serving people in our lives. The challenge comes when we lose sight of ourselves in the process, or worse, when we never had the opportunity to discover who we were in the first place.

I've learned that identities are not fixed.

They evolve.

The person I was at twenty is not the same person I was at forty, and neither is the woman I am today.

Growth often begins when we become willing to question the stories we've told ourselves about who we are supposed to be.

Perhaps the most important lesson is this:

You can honor the roles you play without allowing them to become the whole story of who you are.

Sometimes the journey isn't about becoming someone new.

Sometimes it's about discovering the parts of yourself that have been waiting patiently to be seen.