In light of my current read, Damned by Chuck Palahniuk, and the continuous reference to the John Hughes film, The Breakfast Club, I’ve decided to answer the detention assigned question in 1000 words. Here goes.
Who Do You Think You Are?
I ask myself this question time and again and the answers are numerous and yet nothing substantial for personal growth. It is always a reflection of where I came from, experiences that have influenced my life. So, I’ve come to believe I am my history. To answer in this way is to imply that I am what I was and therefore have no idea how to unearth the me I was supposed to be despite circumstance. But I suppose everyone needs a place to start and my history is all I know. So, maybe, in recollections, I will find the answer of who I am in the ashes of who I’ve been.
I am the daughter of a con artist and a retired police officer. I am the step-child of a deceased Jewban who could probably answer this question for me better than I can. I am an incest and rape survivor. I am a diagnosed Bi-Polar/PTSD patient. I am an aspiring writer and an avid reader. I am a Puerto Rican female who does not feel connected to anything culturally, socially, mentally, spiritually, or physically.
I am a divorcee. I am a problematic human being who delves into the deepest trenches of pessimism because optimism means I have hope and hope scares the crap out of me. I am a college drop out. I am a closet romantic. I am a scared little girl.
I am a mother. I am a soldier for my son and his number one cheerleader. I am an example of all the things he should probably not want in a companion.
Yo, this shit is depressing.
I am all of the labels I have ever been given over the years. And I am a trapped entity; unable to escape the baggage and drowning under the weight.
I am a spirit lost in what I wanted and what is.
I am a bitch when I think I have to be, which seems to be a lot. I am a woman willing to forgive but searching for my own forgiveness. Yearning to be cleaned of my sins that leave me in the spiral of hopelessness I continuously fall into.
I am far more vulnerable than I am comfortable with admitting. I am weaker than I want to say. I am struggling to know why I am here.
Perhaps I am still damaged from the ongoings of recent years. I am still buried under the pain of loss, death, failure. Perhaps I cannot answer who I think I am because I’m not ready. Because I’m scared to leave a page blank and admit that I think that’s all I am. A blank page. A nothing. A mistake.
Nowhere near 1000 words and still no answer. But an honest, horribly honest start. Something to revisit. Something I will attempt again at a later date.