identity crisis

My spirit is heavy.

Expectations and duties hold me down, 

I can’t seem to find the strength. 

Do they even belong to me? 

My foundation has never felt so weak 

With each step, another piece crumbles away

However, there is a beauty that is evolving, a newfound confidence

It assures me that I am going in the right direction,

-but it doesn’t help me carry the weight 

I am hopeful and as lonely as I have ever felt.

My desire to be understood keeps me going. 

I can only hope that I will be alright.

Who can I blame for my troubles? 

Who can I trust to paint the picture? 

I wonder in and out of conversations 

I only ask what can be answered. 

My silence is the only honest thing about me.

I can’t shake the pressure to remain small, so I struggle to communicate my new truth. 

This dead skin no longer fits me. 

Coming out for air is painful, at least I can breathe again 

At least I know where I am going

My self-portrait appears to be a blank canvas.

I wonder whose job it is to paint it.   

Journal Entry #45 

Am I limited by my ability to see?

The other day, I went to an immersive exhibit. The exhibit was beautiful and thought-provoking. In every room, we were treated to a visual and sensual masterpiece. In the final room, the exhibit incorporated part of a biography, Notes on Blindness, that profiled John M. Hull. John M. Hull was a theologian who famously audio-documented his journey as he progressively lost his sight. The exhibit included excerpts from the audio journal where Hull reflected on how his vision (or deteriorating vision) had impacted his relationship with his children. Hull mentioned that his blindness did not impact it at all and did not believe that it ever could.

He said his relationship with his children was built on the stories they exchanged. He knew them because of what they had shared with him, as opposed to just watching them grow up. 

This moved me. It was a beautiful reflection and touched a part of my heart. For a moment, I sat and realized just how passive watching is. How lazy we become when we can see a person or thing. It made me think about my own relationships with people and how often and how important it is for me to break the barrier from merely being an observer to actually taking time and learning curiosity. Curiosity, my favourite word. I am beginning to see it as a verb rather than a noun. 

This part of the exhibit really made me look inwards. I had to ask myself how many times I took just what I saw and decided that that was enough. Hence, the question: Am I limited by my ability to see? 

How many people have I shut down based primarily on their appearance? How many times has that been the central thought? How many times has what I have seen on the surface level been the beginning and end of a story for me?

I do believe that our physical bodies act as a vessel for the real person that we are. Our bodies can be a physical projection of who we are, but it doesn’t tell the whole story. I mean, it can’t be, that is not how we exist. Additionally, the world that we live in today makes it difficult for us to be fully self-actualized in that way. We know this because societal norms and pressures exist in a way that enforces this and us. 

We are victims, yet we are all complicit as well. 

But curiosity persists and acts as a tool for us to break free from this, from the default. It frees us and allows us to remain unlimited. This was my takeaway from the snippet by John M. Hull. I saw his reflection as a stop sign, a call for me to pause and reflect on how intentional I am in my relationships. It is a profound thing to think about, and I am excited to explore it further.