Okay - so you know how I said I would write soon? Yeah... Sorry. I mean, I thought about it. I really did, and it's the thought that counts, but I just couldn't bring myself to put words to the page. Or screen, in this case. I've always found the most difficult part of loving to write is having to separate all these vibrant ideas in my head long enough to actually put one down.
I think one of the mistakes that people make when writing is the need for it to be meaningful, always. It was one of the most startling things for someone to ask me when I was younger; "But what does it mean?". I never needed anything to have meaning back then, much less my words and thoughts. Then as I got older everything suddenly needed meaning - I was taught by everyone to find the meaning in everything, you can't just enjoy the words and the feel of them over your tongue any more, they have to actually have a purpose.
I began writing again last year, after a while of avoiding it. It's a bit like riding a bike, you might be wobbly at first when you start again but you can never quite forget it. I'm actually not sure what this has to do with what I sat down to write about but somehow we have reached here and I'm not quite sure how to get back so I'm just going to start again.
So, I've been thinking recently - after a super interesting conversation with my counsellor - about who I am. I know that's a super cliché thing to say, especially at my age, but at this point it really does need to be answered (or at least I thought it did).
Readers (if there are any of you left), have you ever stopped and asked yourself who you are? Because I have found recently that it is not as straightforward to answer as one might think.
The first problem with defining oneself is labels. Do I believe in labels? Do I fit into specific labels? More importantly, what do I have to gain or learn by labelling myself? Not only that, but all people see labels differently - so the way I define myself might be completely different to how others define me.
Anyway, as you can see, I started off absolutely confused as to just what I was doing asking such a complicated question that in all likelihood I couldn't answer. I mean, it didn't stop me from trying to answer it further, but at least I realised it was stupid and futile.
So the next step to me figuring out who I am was trying to gage what my friends thought of me. Surely one of the best ways to find out who you are is to look at who makes you who you are? Unfortunately, in my experience, my friends have known me as multiple things; Immature Lily, Cancer Lily, Selfish and Angry Lily, Post-Cancer Lily, More-Cancer Lily, Semi-Reformed Lily, Confused Lily, Tired Lily. There's so many that I can barely remember them all - never mind try to define myself by them.
I looked then to my family, but the same thing happened and I then realised that the only person we can really ask to answer who we are is ourselves (wow what a deep statement). The thing is, there are so many qualities that define who I am. So I started to make a list of what I thought I was. I'm going to post it here because those of you who are reading this already know me pretty well:
I think one of the mistakes that people make when writing is the need for it to be meaningful, always. It was one of the most startling things for someone to ask me when I was younger; "But what does it mean?". I never needed anything to have meaning back then, much less my words and thoughts. Then as I got older everything suddenly needed meaning - I was taught by everyone to find the meaning in everything, you can't just enjoy the words and the feel of them over your tongue any more, they have to actually have a purpose.
I began writing again last year, after a while of avoiding it. It's a bit like riding a bike, you might be wobbly at first when you start again but you can never quite forget it. I'm actually not sure what this has to do with what I sat down to write about but somehow we have reached here and I'm not quite sure how to get back so I'm just going to start again.
So, I've been thinking recently - after a super interesting conversation with my counsellor - about who I am. I know that's a super cliché thing to say, especially at my age, but at this point it really does need to be answered (or at least I thought it did).
Readers (if there are any of you left), have you ever stopped and asked yourself who you are? Because I have found recently that it is not as straightforward to answer as one might think.
The first problem with defining oneself is labels. Do I believe in labels? Do I fit into specific labels? More importantly, what do I have to gain or learn by labelling myself? Not only that, but all people see labels differently - so the way I define myself might be completely different to how others define me.
Anyway, as you can see, I started off absolutely confused as to just what I was doing asking such a complicated question that in all likelihood I couldn't answer. I mean, it didn't stop me from trying to answer it further, but at least I realised it was stupid and futile.
So the next step to me figuring out who I am was trying to gage what my friends thought of me. Surely one of the best ways to find out who you are is to look at who makes you who you are? Unfortunately, in my experience, my friends have known me as multiple things; Immature Lily, Cancer Lily, Selfish and Angry Lily, Post-Cancer Lily, More-Cancer Lily, Semi-Reformed Lily, Confused Lily, Tired Lily. There's so many that I can barely remember them all - never mind try to define myself by them.
I looked then to my family, but the same thing happened and I then realised that the only person we can really ask to answer who we are is ourselves (wow what a deep statement). The thing is, there are so many qualities that define who I am. So I started to make a list of what I thought I was. I'm going to post it here because those of you who are reading this already know me pretty well:
- Feminist
- Cancer Kid
- Cancer SURVIVOR
- A Romantic
- CHRISTIAN
- Selfish
- Loving
- Drama Queen
- Humorous
- Writer
Okay so those are just the ones that I could come up with in the moment that I was actually writing. The thing is, though, that makes me several things. It doesn't just make me one thing- but many. I think it was then that I truly realised asking myself who I was was a futile attempt. Not because it was confusing and the answer was hard to find - but because it was impossible to find just one answer. Humans are not 2D beings, we are three dimensional. We are made up of what we have been through, what we want, our futures, our pasts, our presents. We are a scrapbook of scars and love and fear.
Being a fan of Sylvia Plath, I found a great line from 'The Bell Jar' that really describes how I feel about being alive. Being alive to me is no longer about searching for answers or meaning - I have reverted back to the days when I would write because I needed to, not just when I had something meaningful to say. I'm living. And you know what? That's friggin' AMAZING, why question it?
So I'll leave you with the words of Sylvia Plath;
"I took a deep breath and listened to the old brag of my heart: I am, I am, I am."
Love to you all, B x
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