Identity
Who are you?
Today I was asked whether what I do defines who I am. It was an unexpected question, from an unlikely source, and it’s been preying on my mind all day.
I work in healthcare, and no two days are alike. Some days are fine and cruise along, some days contain patient emergencies or require empathy for those whose loved ones didn’t make it. I thrive on the variety. I think on my feet. Uncertainty in a work environment is empowering to me. In my home life? Not so much.
I also have a lot of interests outside of work.
I am an amateur silversmith who makes her own jewellery in a home workshop. Fire and molten metal are awesome yo.
I am a keen photographer who hasn’t used her fancy camera in a year, but who committed to Project 366, and has been taking a photo a day for 2016 on Instagram.
I am a beginner writer, who committed to writing here every day. I am also writing a novel within the NaNoWriMo framework, as well as one outside of it (aim high, right?!).
I am a voracious reader. I average two novel-length books a week. I read everything I can get my hands on, but have a soft spot for fantasy, self help books, World War II cryptography, and literary fiction.
I am a cook, and I love to cook but can’t bake to save my life. Cooking for those I love brings me great joy. Most of my social events involve food.
I am a gardener. Hand watering my herbs and growing fruit trees each summer night is a time for quiet reflection, blissful moments spent in the cooling air. Keeping everyone alive through a painfully hot summer also gives me no small amount of satisfaction.
I am a cinephile, and particularly adore Bollywood films. This interest has fallen by the wayside as of late, but the summer film festivals are about to start again and I’ll catch up quickly.
All of these things influence who I am at my core. But none of them are the sole definer of who I am. The facets of my experiences combine to reflect the jewel that is me, but do not define me.
I’m not just a writer, or a manager, or a friend, or a lover. I am all these things, and yet none of them are me.
