Verb—>Identity

“I think, therefore I am.” -Descartes

I run. —> I am a runner.

I write. —> I am a writer.

I teach. —> I am a teacher.

I parent. —> I am a parent. 

It is compelling to me how the things we humans choose or are obligated to do so swiftly become part of our identity. I like this idea in a way that is a little hard for me to pinpoint. It feels somehow comfortable and familiar- like stepping into a family dwelling, a place that smells like your childhood basement or perhaps like your grandmother’s kitchen at Thanksgiving. 

There are things we are because they belong only to us, do not exist outside of us. I am a human. I am a woman. 

There are relationships that add complexity to our identity. I am a daughter, sister, cousin, friend. Those relationships are important to who I am. Who I am to others and who I surround myself with impact my sense of self. 

There are things we do that I believe become a part of identity. I parent and I am a parent. Parenting is both a thing that I do and a thing that I am. It is not my entire self, but a very specific and precious piece of me. 

This morning, I woke up just as the sun was beginning to light the sky. The colors weren’t especially remarkable, but I always enjoy catching the moment of change. Witnessing the relentless melt of time is one of my greatest joys. So, I took a picture and posted it to Instagram (along with someone else’s words that were rolling around in my mind) and then realized my time to reflect had passed. I needed to wake my oldest son up to get ready for middle school so he would make it to the bus on time. 

I was strongly pulled to sit down at my desk and write. I felt inspired. My mind was primed, ready to let words hit the page. A relentless stream of thoughts and ideas.

But I didn’t. 

I am a parent. I did what I knew was the responsible thing to do. I woke up my dear, sweet twelve year old child (whose feet are now larger than my own), folded his clothes, made him breakfast and packed his lunch. I told him how much I love him and how sorry I was for getting upset with him the night before. I told him he was more important to me than the jar that had belonged to my grandmother (which he had borrowed and lost, without telling me). He gave me a hug and told me he’d love me no matter what. I told him the same. Then he flew out the door to the bus. 

That half hour of time was precious. I was able to reorient my brain into the moment, do the things I needed to to make sure my son got where he needed to go with the things he needed to have a regular day at school. Nothing extraordinary happened in that half hour. At the beginning of it, what I wanted to be doing was writing. At the end of it, what I wanted to be doing was writing. That desire hadn’t changed at all. 

After he flew out the door to catch the bus, I woke up my other son to get ready for his day and then I left the apartment to walk our dog. As I was standing outside in the crisp, frosty morning air, with the sun just cresting the horizon and splitting the cold dark with its warm light, I felt myself lighter and more accomplished than I had been before I walked out the door. I felt loved and appreciated in a simple and comfortable way. I felt I had a sense of purpose. 

This very small slice of time made me think about how the things people choose to do or are obligated to do in life intersect with their identity. I parent, and I am a parent. The fact that I am a parent, that I parent, does not define me. It is not who I am, it is a part of what makes me me. It adds complexity to my life in a way that can be at turns fulfilling or frustrating, depending on the moment and circumstances in which I find myself. And if I’m honest, it’s often both at the same time.

A few years ago, I had a conversation with a friend (who knows me well as a person and as a parent) around the cultural phenomenon of how parenting has transformed over the decades. I found it fascinating at the time, and it has rolled around in my head since then. I’m intrigued with unfolding it further; I want to dig into what it means for me to occupy this space and how being a thing instead of doing a thing impacts my life and perspective of myself and others. Within this, I’m curious about the personal and cultural implications of letting something become so deeply a part of one’s identity and what that means for a person’s vision of themselves as an individual and how they fit into society. 

For today, what I know is that I am trying my best to fit all the pieces of my intricate identity puzzle together into a cozy and familiar quilt. Soft in all the right places, angular and predictable in all the right ways, and unique because each piece is different from the one alongside it, in a way that is pleasing to the mind. My life has, at times, felt disjointed and clashing; there are moments when seams seem to unravel or pull too tight. Today, however, I woke up with the sun and felt that I had found a space to occupy that fit me perfectly, like those moments when you curl up to sleep and pull the blanket over yourself and everything just feels right. Like you never want to move from that position ever because it feels so damn good. 

Of course, I know nothing is forever. The pieces of my life will continue to move and change. For me, that’s part of the beauty of it all. I wouldn’t fully be myself without some kind of personal development, change of scenery or activity. I feel It’s only human to change with time, to reflect on where we’ve been and where we want to go. For now, though, I will relish the distinct feeling that I am comfortably fitting into all of my many unique and puzzling identities. For now, change in its many forms feels welcome and not scary, and so I will plunge into life with the assurance that I am who I am- with all my imperfections, questions, fears and hesitations, I am enough. 

What are the things you do that make you feel whole, that have become part of your identity? Who would you be without those things? 

Note: I wrote that little reflection a month or so ago, and returned to it today because I’d had a hard day of teaching (yet another aspect of my identity). It made me realize that in those moments when the things we choose or are obligated to aren’t going the best, it can cause some strain on the ties that bind the various parts of our identities. Things aren’t always sunshine and rainbows, and that can affect how we see ourselves and our relationships with others and the world. At the same time, it can be the most challenging moments in life that teach us something valuable about ourselves, where we’ve come from, who we are, or the type of people we strive to be.