Just Be Yourself

Just be yourself. So many times, I've heard people say it. I've even caught myself saying it. But what does it mean? Who am I? How can I be myself when I don't even know who that is anymore?

For as long as I can remember, my identity has been defined by dance and work. I based my identity on what I did and how much effort I put into my training and job that became all I was. To be honest, I was okay with that.

In high school, I was a straight-A student and dancer and was training to join the circus as a contortionist. I did it! I made it to the national circus school. But unfortunately, it was short-lived because I was diagnosed with epilepsy during my time there and had to leave because it was too dangerous to have seizures while contorting 30 feet in the air. So my entire adolescence was wasted on a dream that was cut short in just a few weeks by my brain "misfiring."

I got over it eventually. After all, I was still a fantastic dancer with a promising future. As a dance teacher, I was sought out by studios. I was also a great student. I studied business management and graduated at the top of my class. I was also the project manager in all my group assignments. I loved organizing and planning the work to make sure everyone was doing what they were best at. I was allowing them to shine!

During this time, I was working at Starbucks. I was a shift supervisor. In our district, I was the "fixer." I was sent from store to store to fix productivity and quality issues at Starbucks with great success.

So here we are. Based on this, I am a fantastic dancer, a hard worker, a team leader, and a great student. This was my identity. This is how I defined myself. My identity was what I did, but I lost myself over time.

Two years ago, I was in a car accident and suffered permanent injuries to my back. I also started having drop attacks because of my head injury. I lost my job because I couldn't work on my feet anymore. I could barely do housework, let alone pursue a professional dance career. I was no longer a dancer. I was no longer a team leader. I could no longer be a hard worker when I had no work. But I was still a great student.

So I went back to school. I got a degree in marketing, once again graduating at the top of my class. My leadership skills were once again put to good use in assignments. While studying marketing, I fell in love with the power of storytelling. I discovered that I've always been a storyteller. That's what dance was for me. Though I was a dancer, I was a storyteller too. I just had to find a different way to tell stories. My body was my pen, but now it's my keyboard. I hadn't lost my first love. I just had to find a different way of doing it.

This past year, I spent most of my time applying for jobs to put my degrees to good use. 543 applications, to be exact. With very little to show for it. Despite applying for roles that I was more than qualified for, I have yet to have a full-time offer that meets my needs for remote work because of my injuries. In addition to being unemployed for two years, I have blown through my savings, and my mental health has taken a major dive. In the process, I lost my self-confidence and interest in everything because I was focused on getting back what I had before the accident.

I was so focused on getting a job to feel useful that I neglected my health. Last month was the last straw. I had a drop attack that resulted in a fall down the stairs. I slipped a disk. I had to stop pushing through the pain because of the risk of paralyzation or, at the very least, soiling myself.

I couldn't afford my medication for my mood disorder because I had to prioritize my spending. The thing about mental health is that it doesn't happen all at once. Instead, it builds over time and strips you down piece by piece until there's nothing left. You become nothing. You become worthless.

I made the mistake of prioritizing my money for giving instead of caring for myself. I let go for so long. I just couldn't get back. I made a plan to end my life on December 18th. I was ready to go through with it. I was a burden in my mind, and I couldn't bear it. By some miracle, the night before, I found a box of samples I had gotten for my mood disorder but had forgotten about. Though I had made peace with my decision, it turns out I wasn't done fighting. I took my meds for the first time in two and a half months.

On December 18th, I didn't go through with it. Then, after a week, I started to feel hope again. This miracle came with an important realization. I spent my life defining myself by what I do. I never took the time to get to know Me.

So who am I?

I am a daughter, a friend, and a partner.

I am an animal lover.

I am a giver and a philanthropist.

I am an individual, but I am not alone.

I am a storyteller.

I am a simmer.

But there must be more. This year, I want to get to know Me beyond what I do. I will take chances, starting with publishing this post. My keyboard is now my body, and I will use it to tell stories. I will start knitting and soaping again. I won't let my health define who I am. This year, I start my writing career because I want to, not because I have to. I might know what I want to write about yet, but I plan to figure it out. This year, I meet Me.