In Search of Myself
By Tina Tully
In the months since I turned 20, I’ve been plagued by the question that everyone is faced with at the beginning of their adulthood: Who am I? I can’t answer that in a sentence and I don’t expect to. Theoretically, it would seem as though my focus should be on who I want to be but that would just drive me insane because I’m still young and still exploring. Why tie myself down to something so soon? While I may not have a detailed roadmap of how I want my life to go, I do know that I want to be happy. This may seem obvious but I’ve come to realize that in the world and times we live in, happiness cannot always be achieved passively. For a fulfilling life, I must actively seek it out.
The first thing I’ve implemented into my life is routine which is less of a routine and more of a list of conditions that make a day qualify as a good one. The list is very short: watch the sunrise, write something and discover something beautiful. My mother traveled a lot. A majority of my childhood was spent in long spells at the houses of various extended family members. I’d often have to adapt to their expectations of how children should act, which led to exhausting days where I’d have to pretend to be someone I wasn’t. Only at daybreak when most were still asleep did I feel like I could really breathe and be myself. I’ve continued the tradition of watching the sunrise as a reminder of the lives I’ve left behind and the boundless potential that lies ahead of me no matter where I might end up.
I try to write every day because that’s just as important as breathing to me. Living in the houses of others made every word that came out of my mouth feel like a performance because it was. Only in the pages of my notebooks did my real voice come out. I don’t force myself to write anything beautiful. The awful poetry I come up with in the shower, unsent messages and things I’m too afraid to say out loud all make their way out of me and into the pages that will never pass judgment. I don’t attach dates to my journal entries — the past always seems to blend together anyway. Once I’ve written something down, I can move on from it. I rarely read back except in the moments when life feels a bit overwhelming. It gives me the reassurance that I have lived through difficult times before and I can certainly do it again.
Another thing that grants me fulfillment is collecting beautiful things. I try to jot down beautiful passages I come across while reading, keep an ear out for new music and try to discover new pieces of art every day. I collect rocks, pinecones, feathers and flowers that catch my attention and I sleep next to whatever artwork of mine is in progress at the time. My mom and my brother think it’s a bit silly but I think it’s necessary to surround myself with things that give me any amount of joy just by looking at them. On the days when my mood is particularly low or I find myself bedridden due to depression, I cannot move but I can certainly look at all I’ve collected. I won’t magically jump out of bed and be okay but I am reminded of the beauty and the joy I once found in these items and I’m more inclined to take my medication just to try to feel that again. The defeatism I once felt when my walls were bare and I hid all my interests no longer exists in an immense capacity.
I’ve found that it’s not enough to just seek out the things that make me happy; I have to know how to address the things that sadden me as well. I’ve often struggled with alienation as a result of growing up queer and absurd. My interests very rarely have mass appeal and oftentimes I’ll find myself obsessing over things most people in my community have never heard of. I’ve learned to accept that I probably will never be the most popular person in a room but I’m also done making compromises. I won’t suppress who I really am just to have more people around me. In reality, there are people like me who share the same interests and beliefs. There are only a few of us and we likely won’t see eye to eye on everything but at least we are looking at our true selves. When I introduce the most authentic version of myself, I know the few people who come into my corner are sincere and that is infinitely more meaningful than trying to shrink myself to fit into places I don’t belong.
I have my whole life ahead of me and I’m allowed to stumble and make mistakes along the way but I thought it would be worth it to lay down some foundation or a safety net of sorts. There’s nowhere in the world I can’t write, watch the sunrise or pick flowers. The foundations of who I am are stored in these simple activities so I’ll never have to worry about losing myself again. ♦