The Aftermath

What’s left: 

I’ve been reading a book about a man who is writing about the time in his life when another book of his, his memoir was turning into a movie (Donald Miller- A Million Miles in a Thousand Years).  He highlights the concept that there is a difference between a movie and life: in a movie, each scene, each event, each interaction is leading to something.  It amounts to something.  A movie has a climax, a point, a message, a meaning.  The thing is that our life, our experiences, are ultimately all random.  This sounds like a harsh concept at first.  I was a bit shook myself when I read it, but I continued and realized the author was right.  Thinking about your memories, from the time you were a child until now, each of them left some sort of impact on you- considering the fact you remember them.  I remember in kindergarten, I was a sheep in the school nativity pageant when I wanted to be an angel.  In the fourth grade a girl being mean to me on the playground.  I then gave the same sass (literally the whole "I rubber, you are glue" line) back to her, only to have her tattle on me to my mom.  I remember my first day of sophomore year in high school, I specifically took a long route to get to class; I was satisfied with the fact that I knew my way around school enough to do so.  I ended up being the last one to the classroom, which resulted i me sitting next two weirdos who ignored me, choosing to pick their nose and make up songs to make fun of the teacher instead, for the whole semester.   That same year I dated the captain of the varsity lacrosse team.  I also was elected treasurer of two clubs (makes sense, considering my obvious love for STEM subjects).  Donald Miller goes through a similar trip down memory lane (although his doesn't include being a sheep, rather the legendary nose picking rock stars), and then leaves us with the question of what these memories amount to.  And to figure that out we have to look at the common theme of them all.  And what do these memories have in common?  Only me.  

As I was reading this, I had just ended a year long relationship.  It was a long distance one with a long overdo bitter ending.  I had actually just read that passage about our randomized lives the day before I had my last phone call with them.  The infamous phone call- you know, the one that was supposed insert in me and in them that idea of closure.  The conversations coming to a close as we begin practically yelling at each other about me blocking them on social media, and finally with me hanging up on them.  And I thought to myself now what.  As Donald Miller would question, what did this amount to?

Here was another experience, another part of my life that had finished.  So now what?  Yes, I took lessons away from the relationship.  But I feel like relationships have more of an impact on us then a few life lessons.  I strongly believe that we base our identity largely off of the people we associate with.  It's the whole concept that we are a combination of the five or whatever number of people that we spend the most time with.  So, what was my identity now?  I knew who I was when I was around them; like anyone, I think, it's easy for me to adapt to the idea of the person around me, in the most stereotypical, or almost extreme, way possible.  Example- if I were hanging out with someone who was extremely smart, I too would find myself trying to be like extremely smart, if only to be able to hold conversation with them.  Then I would find myself thinking of myself in a more nerdy way, as I had tapped in to that dimension of me as person when I was around them.  I did this largely with my ex.  I thought of myself as someone different than I had before them, because of who I was around them.  And now that they were gone, what was left?  

Well, me obviously.  

But I felt like a patched quilt.  Haphazard bits of me were still around, thrown around, placed in parts of my life randomly: the athlete, the obsessive academic, the reasonable feminist, mental health guru, the mountain lover.  People knew different parts of me here, it was college.  But they didn’t know all of me.  And I realized that.  A guy made a comment to me “I see you as miss good girl.” Right.  And I realized the one dimension he thought of me as. It really shocked him when he found out one of my favorite vices was similar to his.  Actually, what I think shocked him was that I had vices- as if not everyone does.  

I realized more then that these people I now had around me did that, saw me based solely in the narrow dimensions in which they knew me.  I should mention, this is not to reflect negatively on those who surrounded me.  It is no one's fault when this happens. they're basing their opinions off of what they know, people just forget they don't know everything.  And if it were to be someone's fault, well it's easy to argue that it would be almost entirely our own.  We chose who we let into which parts of past, and how deep we take people into those pasts.  This is obviously true at any point in your life with whoever you surround yourself with.   But this was a little different because I had a fresh start, I could be whoever, I could formulate whatever impressions in these peoples minds that I wanted.  Thinking about it, really that concept can be implied at any point in your life as well.
Which is a well understood, pretty cool idea, right?  That we can formulate and evolve and constantly do this and that, and it’s okay.  It's okay to remake yourself and change.  But I had never come to terms with this, I didn't think I needed to confront this idea personally.  My whole life I constantly took pride in myself for the the misconception that I knew myself.  Other people could change, would change, had changed but I was immune it, unless change took form in the idea of 'positive growth' as person.  I knew myself.  And I had been reassured in this belief by other people recognizing and commenting on it, saying one thing I really had down was the fact that I knew myself; they probably still don't even realize how mistaken they were.  I just had stability in those around me, which translated into my identity appearing stable as well.  But these past few years had changed me, because the people relevant in my life had changed and changed me; and just when I had reach that homeostasis, that stability again, I flipped the tables on myself.  I didn’t know myself, I don’t know myself.  But I know that I’m changing.  I know where I’ve been- which is the basis of knowing yourself, I think. 

J