Who Do You Think You Are, Anyway?

This is a question I think about a great deal.  For a long time, I don’t think I knew the answer to this question.  More often than not, I was simply whomever you wanted me to be.  But with age (ahem), comes wisdom (hopefully) and a few years ago I started thinking about this more and more.  Who am I?

“Who am I?  Who AM I?  Who am I?!? I am the walrus…”  Sorry;  channeling The Breakfast Club there for a moment.

(The question also makes me think of this, which is now playing an infinite loop in my head.)

Anyway, I am all the usual things you’d expect.  A daughter.  A niece.  A cousin.  An auntie. A friend.  A Temple alum (go Owls!)  A youth leader.  An event planner.  An animal lover. An Aquarian.  A Christ follower.  A Subaru owner.  An iPhone devotee.  A Facebook addict. A blogger.  But I’m also someone who:

Loves to create…events, crafts, scrapbooks, photographs.  Spaces. Bonds between people.  Illusions of spontaneity (when I really had a plan all along.)

Loves people and getting to know people.  One of my favorite things in life is hearing how people met their spouses.  I have heard some really fantastic stories.

Is harder on myself than anyone else could be.

Is loyal to a fault.

Wants to help.

Cares.

Is easily frustrated.

Just wants people to pay attention sometimes.

The list could go on and on;  both “good” and “bad” attributes, overlapping.  But isn’t that how it really is?  I posed the question on Facebook this week to see what sort of answers I’d get from my friends.  In the midst of many tongue in cheek responses, one friend said simply, “I am me.  There are too many facets to get into detail.”

That comment made me think.  Aren’t we all like that?  Full of facets, like a diamond?  Turn it this way and the light reflects.  Turn it another and capture its brilliance in a completely different way.

As I focus on my word for this year, I’ll keep thinking about my many facets, about what makes me me and wonder how and where do I fit.

I’m determined to find out.

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