Who Am I?

Sometimes we bloggers write an About page, tuck it away under a menu item and forget it. I know I’ve done that on my previous blogs. This time I put enough thought into what I wanted to write I decided before tucking it away under a menu item, I would publish it as a post.

Who Are You?

When asked this question, I think it’s human nature for us to initially think of our answer in terms of how we relate to other people. “I’m a wife. I’m an uncle. I’m a grandmother.”

Or what we do for a living. “I’m a supervisor. I’m a shoe salesman. I’m a rocket scientist.”

Labels. These are all just labels.

Generic labels are necessary. They quickly communicate to others a snapshot of who you are. When you describe yourself in labels people get a picture of you in their mind, however accurate, inaccurate, or stereotypical it may be.

If someone tells you they are a grandmother or a rocket scientist, that conjures up certain images in your mind, doesn’t it? But does that reflect who that individual person is? Probably not.

Maybe our hypothetical grandmother flies jet planes or our rocket scientist enjoys knitting by the fireplace.

Who Am I?

I’ve asked myself this question a lot in the last year.

What are my labels?

I am a woman. I am still a daughter though not in the way I used to be. I am a granddaughter and a cousin. I am a friend.

I am not a wife. I am not a mom. I am not a sister or an aunt. For what it’s worth, I’m also not a rocket scientist. (If you’re curious, I’m a computer programmer/analyst).

Though I wouldn’t change a thing about how I’ve lived my life up to this point, depending on which way the wind blows that day, I may be thankful I’m on my own or melancholy over those things I’m not.

But, you know what I’ve finally realized?

I am more than my labels.

You want a more accurate image of who I am?

I love classic movies.

I was a math major in college until I got to Calculus III, realized I hated it, skipped class for a week, hid out at a friend’s house watching soap operas and panicking about my future career path, finished the course, and switched majors to computer science.

I love everything to do with New York, but I’ve never been there. I hope to coerce a good friend of mine into planning a girls only vacation there with me sometime in the next twenty years. I’ve mentioned it to her, but I’m not sure she knows I’m serious. Guess what? I am serious.

I read, watch, and listen to everything I can get my hands on about the lives of women in World War II.

I either take way too long to plan something out or I make spur of the moment decisions.

I love nature. Especially trees.

Shelves full of books make me smile. Bookstore. Library. Random magazine pictures. The mere thought of the potential knowledge, laughter, excitement, and stories hiding in the pages of those books makes me inordinately happy.

Cooking? Not really my thing.

I am a former athlete who now considers it an accomplishment when she walks over a mile without a side cramp or a knee going out.

Play me a song from the 1960s and there is a 99 percent chance I will know every word of the lyrics and a 100 percent chance my singing voice will make you cringe.

Having been in their shoes, I am always pleasant and respectful to restaurant workers. Working with the hungry public is not an easy job. That being said, I am an extremely picky eater who needs to be very specific with everything I order. Just call me Sally Albright.

I wrote a funny post about yowling cats. Yep. I couldn’t come up with a legitimate (read: falsely modest) reason to link to it, so I’ll be perfectly honest and tell you, I think I wrote something funny and I wanted to link to it.

I am a creature of habit. Every night I drink a glass of cran-apple juice and eat two squares of dark chocolate.

Tonight the words of advice on my chocolate wrapper were, “You are exactly where you are supposed to be.”

If there is anything I’ve learned in life, it’s listen to the wisdom of the chocolate wrapper.

So, next time I start to fret about what I am and what I am not I’m going to forget the labels.

Who Am I?

I AM ME.