There’s probably been a moment in your life when who you thought you were clashed with how people perceived you. Maybe during a break up as your significant other described a person you couldn’t recognize, an intervention from your friends or family to save you from yourself, or even in the work place when going through peer reviews. You strive to be yourself, whatever that means, and adhere to values that you have decided define yourself. Maybe it’s kindness, honesty, or even diplomacy and stress-free.



And then, one day, you’re suddenly confronted with a portrait of yourself that doesn’t seem like you, yet people around you are adamant is you. They insist, provide examples, and express how you’ve negatively affected them. As the testimonies add up and your sense of self begins to slowly shatter, part of your brain slowly begins to accept this new reflection. You simply can’t escape this image being thrown back at you. You can’t espace the mirror.
Let’s not even get into whether what your peers are saying is true or not. That’s not the point of this piece of writing. This is about identity. This is about unresolved trauma. This is about how you define your self worth, your own value, when your support system has all but broken down.
Here’s an unhealthy thing I’ve been doing for a while. I defined my entire self worth by my output at and dedication to work. I sought validation, reassurance, even confidence from the people I worked with ever day, multiple times a day. I constantly asked for confirmation that what I was doing was right, was good, was appreciated.



Who was I? A person good at his job, passionate, deeply involved, always thinking about it, never shutting it off. An environment where your contributions, if positive, were valued and rewarded. A place where my life had constant meaning. But outside of that, my life had none.
That’s who I was first: a person with a specific job. A productive person. In second place came the rest: a friend, a lover, a brother… Part of me knew it wasn’t healthy, yet that was the only way for my mind to stay whole, for my identity to exist. I was somebody at work. I was an efficient part of a system, always surrounded by people giving feedback. But how could I be sure they were telling me the truth?
Four years ago I came out to my parents. They rejected me and we barely talked for years. Just like that, suddenly, the best and most trustworthy relationship of my life had stopped. The one that was supposed to be forever, unconditional, trustworthy, loving… I was many things, and also gay, but I was rejected. They rejected my entire identity, my whole self, because of part of my identity. That day, something broke inside of me.
How can I trust what anybody tells me, in any context, when I lost the most important and loving and supposedly stable relationship of my life? That coming out event truly shattered my sense of self. I trusted my parents, and they knew me for the entirety of my life. And they left me behind.



But I’ve known friends, colleagues, loved ones for way less time. So, of course, I ask multiple times for reassurance.
Do you understand what I’m saying? I feel like I’ve lost my parents, that Monday, January 19th, 2015. The ones most supposed to accept and trust and believe you, every part of you. The ones linked by blood, by genes, by something immutable, unchangeable. I am forever their son. And yet, they stopped being my parents.
So why in the world should I ever believe anybody else for the rest of my life? How can I ever trust again?
I ask friends if they really want to hang out, if I’m not being too annoying or imposing.
I ask my fiancé if he really loves me, or still loves me. It’s half jokes half truths and all anxiety.
I ask my colleagues if they like my work, if they like me, how they see me.
I ask this too many times. All contexts blend together. I feel like I’m one person, that I should only be one person, that it is the only way to honesty and understanding my true core. The only way to stand up to what my parents rejected. They refused all of me at once, so I would survive and strive as one singular self, stronger than ever, standing tall but mostly being only one me.

But when your identity is so intrinsically linked to one of your personas, facing overwhelming negative feedback has catastrophic consequences. After all, you feel the same person in all contexts. You only have one identity. If you’re struggling to be good person at work, for example, doesn’t that mean you’re a bad person in every other aspect of your life? If you can’t get along with your family, how can you get along with friends? Losing your balance in one context leads to falling in all others.
For example, if I feel that who I am at work is exactly the same person I am with friends, at home or in other social situations, getting negative feedback at work suddenly threatens my understanding of myself even though it is a regular part of the experience of one’s professional career. And that’s not healthy at all.
But here’s the answer to that question that needed much introspection: it’s not true. You are a complex being with a fluid identity and an ever changing sense of self. The person you are at work, or with friends, or with family, or with your loved ones, or with strangers, does not reflect who you are in other parts of your existence. You are different people, perceived differently, in different contexts, and that’s okay. And those different contexts each shape you a little differently. That’s something I’ve misunderstood for a very long time.

You are not the same in every aspect of your life. You shouldn’t even strive to be! At some point, you will face difficulties, and will need to rely on yourself — your other selves — to catch your fall. You will need to get some distance, reflect, make amends, better yourself; and your other selves will help you achieve that. Don’t run away from negative perceptions of you. Turn to your other selves to understand them and improve.
So Isshak? Meet Isshak. Nice to meet me. Thanks in advance for all the help.
This article should have ended a sentence ago, and yet it doesn’t feel right to leave you with such a partial understanding and incomplete portrait of my parents. Their story isn’t mine but absolutely relates to today’s theme of identity.
Identity is shaped by a lot of things. I’ve always felt the main influence to be culture, nurture. When your social environment preaches a certain set of values your whole life, and your home reinforces them, chances are they’ll become part of your identity. You then take pride in passing down those same values to your children.
But one day, your child rejects part of your values. Part of your identity. Your child betrays your sense of self. Your body reacts way before your brain can begin to understand. You protect your identity.



Time passes. Your brain catches up to your body, calms it down. Life goes on. The world keeps spinning. You open up. You make amends. You’re not completely there yet, but you make progress. And you begin to repair your creation’s broken pieces, while at the same time, adding some of the pieces to your own body.
Congratulations. Yet another you to help you weather whatever may come at you.
Mom and dad, meet mom and dad. Don’t worry. They’ll get you through this, slowly but surely.

