Finally...optimism. I was hoping to start feeling better at the two week mark, and thankfully, I do. Still not too sure whether or not I really want to be on this medicine, but today I'm okay continuing to give it a chance.
My counselor has asked me to write down what's going on in my head before going to bed each night. Night time seems to be the worst for me right now, so I suppose we are trying to find what triggers it. Last night I just got a pen and paper and really just let my brain write. Most of it makes absolutely no sense, but at some point this....I guess you could call it a conversation with myself, came out.
What do you want to know?
Who are you?
I'm you.
You're who?
You.
You can't be me if I'm me, right?
I can. I am.
What's your name?
Why do you ask?
Well, so I can identify you...or me...I guess.
Do you think identity is found in a name?
At its basis, yes.
Names explain nothing.
Your last name does anyway. Says who you came from.
DNA may make the instrument, but you choose the music.
Who are you?
You.
Okay, who am I?
Ah, now we're getting somewhere.
Where?
There. Here.
This makes no sense.
It's not supposed to. Sense comes from someone being there before. No one else has ever been you.
So where's "here"?
Here is "who am I"? You are always "who am I" until you become "what she was".
Stop speaking in riddles.
It isn't a riddle. The answer IS the question.
What about HIM?
HE knows the answer, but HE still wants you to ask.
Told you it was weird. I'm not sure I really understand where my head was going with this dialogue, but somehow I felt better after letting it play out. Like there really was an answer in there. There is a side of me that is always looking for approval. Looking for a place. Looking for a label to tell me who I am. There is obviously another part, a part that calmed me last night, that understands that there will always be questions about who exactly we are in all this and what God's purpose is. So therefore, there is always going to be a question "who am I" until the day we die. At that point they talk about "who you were". Those alive will stick labels on you that suit them and their memories of you, both the good and bad. You can't help that, so why try on this side of the grave. Why spend so much time labelling yourself and trying to live up to other peoples expectations? God knows the answer, but he still wants me to ask the question, and hopefully, regardless of what those I leave behind say about me, He will write the last label, the only one that matters and the only one that will stick...MINE.
