While she probably thinks I’ve been ignoring her, I’ve actually been thinking about it a lot. Why do I consider myself part of one generation but not another? Why am I willing to accept certain labels, while others are seen as judgmental, rude or just plain wrong?
Why do I consider myself a lot of things? After all, you might be surprised to learn some of the ways I describe myself. For example, I was born in Kansas and have lived in Missouri for 27 years. But I actually consider myself Southern. And even though the results of both Myers-Briggs personality tests I’ve taken put me firmly in the ENFJ camp – and the description of that type could not be closer to the truth – I consider myself an introvert.
That’s weird, right?
All of this got me thinking about how we describe ourselves. How we classify ourselves and label ourselves. And then I started keeping a list of all the things I consider myself to be. It’s an interesting list, and this summer, I’m going to share some of those labels, as well as the stories behind them.
I’m going to write my way to becoming More Than Defined.
I guess I could have called this “More Than Labeled.” And I tossed around “For Your Consideration.” But honestly, I liked the way this little button looked:
My original intention was to start this project two weeks ago, but it’s been harder than I expected to put my thoughts about labels, classifications and definitions into words.
Shortly after Annalyn was born, I worked part-time at a scrapbooking store. I’d been laid off from my full-time job, I needed to pay the bills somehow, and my sweet friend (and store manager) was kind enough to give me a few hours a week.
One day, as I was putting away cardstock or stacking boxes of adhesives, I heard a familiar voice. I looked up and saw him: my high school guidance counselor. Now, he may not have been much as a guidance counselor, but he was also my coach on the academic team.
Go ahead – call it the “nerd bowl” if you want, but that’s where he knew me best. That team of smart kids who were destined to go far and do great things.
And there I was, running a cash register and stocking shelves with beads and stamps.
I considered hiding, ducking behind a display of page protectors and albums, but I summoned the courage to, you know, act like a grown-up. I walked up to him and said, “Hi, Mr. Rafferty,” and said my maiden name.
The second I saw a flicker of recognition, I dove right in, the words rushing from my mouth: “I just had a baby, and I’m working here part-time. See, I’m in public relations now, but I got laid off, so I’m looking for a job. And just working here until I find one.”
We made awkward small talk and then I rang up his wife’s purchases. He left the store, and I released the breath I’d been holding for several minutes.
Later, I thought about how his voice sounded the same as it did back in high school. In an instant, I could hear him lecturing us about Romeo & Juliet. (I lived in a small town; he was also my freshman English teacher.)
I started wondering, Did my voice sound the same as it had 10 years before? And then, Do I seem to be the same person I was 10 years earlier?
That was the moment I realized that I might be going through an identity crisis. Losing your “dream job” in the same month you deliver an unplanned baby seven weeks early does that to you!
Even though it’s been more than two years, I’m still figuring out exactly who I am today. So over the next 12 weeks, I’m going to look at some of the labels I’ve given myself, some of the ways I’ve defined myself. Maybe they won’t stick after some hard examination; maybe they will.
In the final week of this series, I’ll include a link-up. So if you’d like to write along with me, you can share with us then. Maybe I’m not the only one who hesitates when faced with the question: “Who am I?”
Have you ever had trouble describing yourself? What are some of the labels you give yourself?
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