I am a walking paradox
When people talk about identity and self-discovery I find myself asking again — who am I? Sometimes it feels like I have an answer but, most times I don’t. Knowing who you are will mean knowing what you like and hate. Being able to tell what your actions will be in given situations. Sticking to your rules 100%. Being someone comfortable with success and failure and so many other good things people who know themselves, are. Well, I am none of this. I do not know who I am.
I love good, soulful music with strings; mostly the guitar and keyboard. One of the things that gives me pleasure is discovering new songs and artistes. But I also have a playlist. I end up listening to the same old people and the songs I know. I stick to it throughout the year until every lyric, every line and string is etched deeply in my brain. Tell me, how can I love discovery and routine at the same time?
I feel so much and too much at the same time. Often times, I wonder how one person can have all these feelings in her. I don’t know if I am to embrace it. Toss it outside or just learn how not to care. I am the one my friends talk to about everything and anything because they know I’ll listen. Because they know I care. Because they know I’ll turn the world upside down to fix whatever is wrong. Because they are sure they can always count on me. I keep asking — what do I do with all these feelings inside of me? I believe so much in friendship and pour myself into it. Everything I am. Yet, I can be stoic. Stick to my opinions. Say words that are sometimes unkind without considering the other’s feelings. I can stick to my guns and not let go during an argument. Feel like I am a burden to my friends and withdraw. Feel underappreciated and unworthy of the love I receive. And some other times, I see just my perspective and thoughts and not that of the other party. How I can be so beautiful yet so messy simultaneously?
I love the concept of love. Everything it stands for, its ideals, principles, etc. I think about it. I want it. I write about it. I talk about it. I believe I am deserving of it and will have it. But I also loathe it. I hate how it changes you. The power it has to tear your heart apart, to break it into fragments until nothing is left. The vulnerability that comes with it. How fleeting it can be. How it can make you cynical — afraid of believing again and even more scared to try and trust again. How can something so beautiful be also so destructive?
I move on easily from things. People, jobs, things, habits, and beliefs that no longer serve me. Once I decide to go hands-off on anything, it is forever. I rarely remember the feelings or emotions associated with whatever it is. I have no memories of it. Yet, I am still working towards forgiving my dad for the emotional torture he put me through 5 years ago. I can’t seem to forget the words. The facial expressions. The coldness. The attitude. All my detachment skills have failed. Sometimes I do not like him. Somedays I do. What a complexity I am.
How about my faith? I believe in God. In his involvement and interest in my life and yet, I don’t. I question all his doings and work. Ask why he let me be kidnapped in 2020 and if that is part of his grand plan. I stop praying. I cry and feel like a bad Christian. Somedays I accept it and wear my bad Christian badge without shame. On other days, I crumble beneath the weight of this badge. I feel so off like I’d never become the poster child for true love for God. Sometimes, I crawl back to him with my bruised heart and wavering faith. Some days I don’t. I wait to see if he’ll prove his goodness and come to save me. Sometimes studying the word gets me excited and some others, it doesn’t. It sounds and feels like just words, stories put together. Sometimes I feel I can handle whatever he gives me. Some days, I ask not to be tested anymore. Tell me, how can I be a Christian and then a bad one at the same time?
I believe in myself. I take bets on myself. I try. I make lots of effort. I believe in shooting for the stars. I believe in hard work and dedication. At the same time, I feel like a fraud. An imposter. Someone who is all talk and no action. Someone who will fail so badly. Someone nobody will ever take a chance on because they’ll just see how confused I am. How I am just winging it as I go. How I start learning a new thing and end up dumping it altogether. I feel like I can take the world yet wonder if I will ever become.
I am two different people in one body. And I do not know what to make of the paradox I am. I sincerely don’t.
