Fragmented

Who am I?

It’s a question I never really struggled with until I graduated high school and started college. I thought I had it all figured out, but I realized I hadn’t.

It wasn’t real. I merely existed and, at times, played pretend.

I always put myself in false narratives of someone I thought I was.

I was tossed back and forth in a tumultuous sea of what my family wanted me to be and depression. However, at the time, I didn’t know it was depression.

The waves crashed over me, dragging me down, attempting to drown me, and every time I resurfaced, I thought I still knew myself. After all, no one knew me better than me, right?

Wrong.

If I work hard, I’ll get my degree.

If I work hard, I’ll get my dream job.

If I work hard, I’ll meet my family's approval.

If I work hard, maybe, just maybe, I’ll stop existing.

Many things happened a few years after I graduated high school, and there’s not enough time to tell it all. But the depression was getting worse. It was one thing after another, and I reached a point of not caring as I constantly questioned myself.

Who am I? What did I want to do with my life?

I didn’t even know anymore.

Was I not the girl who had her future planned out? Satisfied with my lot in life, I had everything going for me.

Was I not free-spirited and loving? Didn’t I always drift from one event to the next, taking everything in stride, like an adventure?

Or, was I the negative voices inside my head or heard my family spew at me?

It was confusing.

No one could tell me the answer, but maybe, I thought, God could.

He was prominent in my life from a young age, though I rarely attended church. Regardless, God slowly slipped out of my mind as I grew older and chased my endeavors.

Through a dear friend of mine, I returned to church and back to God. My problems didn’t magically disappear through this divine connection. Yet, little by little, I found my sense of self.

Through the verses, songs, sermons, and tears, I was healing and discovering something that helped me see clearly.

I was no longer the confused girl trying to find herself in a big world. I wasn’t the labels my family put on me or the thoughts inside my head.

I was simply me, a child of God.

My identity no longer came from the success I thought I needed, the family around me, the video games I liked, or the books I read. It came from God, and that helped me more than anything.

There are times, even now, when the negativity still gets to me and I feel the depression crawling back. I always remember where my identity comes from and what I know to be true.

I am redeemed.

I am worthy.

I am loved.

I’m not holier than thou. I don’t stand above everyone else in perfection.

I’m still human. I stumble and fall and make mistakes. And that’s okay because I grow and learn from them.

Yet, having that support under me, and knowing who I am after everything I endured was comforting.

Life is hard, but such is life.

I am me.