Who am I?

Do you ever feel like you don’t really know who you even are? Were you always trying on different personalities like clothes to find the right fit?

I did. I sometimes still do.

Especially since losing my mom, I feel like I don’t know who I am. A motherless daughter now.

Am I a writer? An author? A stay-at-home mom? All three?

What do I even like? Do I enjoy reading fantasy? Do I listen to rock music?

As I’ve gotten older, I think I have a better idea of who I am. But at times I remember thinking something someone said sounded really cool, so I’d check it out. Maybe I’d really like that band or that school or that course.

It was like I could never hold my own convictions. I’d be easily swayed by people’s thoughts and ideas. I wanted to please everyone. It’s one of my greatest strengths and weaknesses: seeing and understanding everyone’s perspective.

I think because I can understand and empathize with others, their interests intrigue me. So I look into them, thinking perhaps I’d like them, too. Even with clothes. Growing up, I wore whatever my mom wore. I was her mini-me.

Then I discovered jeans. And rings. And chokers. And began discovering myself. I found I leaned toward the different and unique regarding style. Ironically, I never really wanted to be like anyone else, despite trying on different styles and personalities.

Since my diagnosis, all of this has been more interesting to look back on. I figure even neurotypical people copy others’ interests, but in a different way, and for a different purpose. A lot of the reason for all this “trying on” is that trying to be like other people allows me to better understand them.

I think finding myself will be a lifelong journey, but I’m glad I’ve started to feel more confident in my own skin. For the most part.


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