Who Am I?

Ask me who I am and I will reply: “I am all things to all people”. I am a wife, I am a mother, I am a sister, I am a lover. But the real truth is that I am so much more, while also being so much less. This is the conundrum of my life — a never ending cycle of topsy, turvy upside down-ness. So ask me who I am, and this will be my answer.

In all honesty it would be hard to reach my age without living a thousand lives, reinventing myself day after day to fit prevailing circumstances. Today I am a master of disguise, a mistress of deception and a keeper of compassion. Tomorrow, who knows? Tell me the day of the week and I will tell you the sacrifice to be made. I will tell you the dish of the day, what’s on the menu, and will serve it as requested. Rare, medium or well-done, the choice is yours and I am here to facilitate, not dictate, the terms.

To become ‘me’ has taken a lifetime of effort and commitment, with hard work and stubbornness thrown in to boot. I cannot afford to be weak, or careless, heartless or selfish. I must be strong, all giving, dedicated to the cause. A contract has been formed, terms and conditions agreed to, for as long as is required. And though my service to the cause is on the whole unrecognised, I accept that this is the life you choose when you become ‘all things to all people.’

But now the winds of change are blowing and I see a clearer horizon ahead. Though I remain ‘all things to all people’ there is a hint of possibility. A gap has arisen in my gruelling schedule. A spot has been recently vacated. Suggestion looks to fill it, the idea of a guilty pleasure. The luxury of selfishness, so long cast aside and forgotten, morphs from fantasy to possibility to reality. I have chased selfishness for so long that now it is here I should relish it, breathe it in, immerse myself in its freedom. But now it is here it is alien to me. I no longer know what to do with it. Now that I have it, I no longer want it and instead mourn my loss. I am still a wife, I am still a mother, I am still a sister, I am still a lover. But I am now so much less of ‘all things to all people’ and so much more adrift. I am lost.

This is the conundrum of my life — a never ending cycle of topsy, turvy upside down-ness. So ask me who I am, again, and this will be the answer.

Tracey Ramsden