In Search of My Identity, Part 2

For years I was convinced that Identity was a one-word label that encompassed the whole of a person's talent: guitarist, soccer player, actor, etc...  This label was born innately within a person and nothing a person did could alter this.  I had a friend, named "B" who was a gymnast, another friend "D" who was an insanely talented musician, "K" was a dancer, "V" was brilliant, excelling in all her classes, and "L" was just jaw-droppingly beautiful.

And then there was me, label-less, talent-less, identity-less.

I craved to be something.  For a perfectionistic, self-conscious, hurting teenage girl, anorexia filled a gaping void in my life.

Those who loved me would try to convince me of the person they knew me as.  

"But you're a good daughter."  

"You are a great friend."  

"You're a good wife."

None of this was very comforting or consoling.  Everyone is a good daughter, friend, wife/girlfriend, etc..., and besides, as sick as I was, I really didn't see myself excelling in any of those aforementioned departments.  When my loved ones said these very well-intentioned things, the ED told me it was all a cop-out, that even they couldn't identify me as being very good at any one thing.  For over 20 years, I believed these lies.

I had what Stanford psychologist Carol Dweck (http://mindsetonline.com) would call a "fixed mindset," a belief that talent, skill, success, etc... cannot be cultivated, that these are things to which we are born or not.  What I am now attempting to nurture is a "growth mindset," the idea that I have the power to shape my talents and successes.  With a growth mindset, I would have understood that those I labeled as "smart" had worked to become smart, that my friend, the gymnast, achieved her success through passion and hard work, not just through innate talent.  I would have understood that if I picked up a guitar and did not immediately belt out "Stairway to Heaven," that it was okay, that I could eventually get there.  I would have understood that even the labels into which I boxed my friends were figments of my creation, and that my friends would have wanted to be known as more than just a one-word concept.  Most importantly, I could have turned my fear of failure and relentless energy to self-destruct into something positive.

Doing the hard work of recovery has given me a wonderful gift, the gift of learning who I truly am.  I've learned that my identity cannot be summed up in one word or even several words.  Who I am is simply me, a person with talents in some areas, weaknesses in others, and abilities waiting to be unlocked.  I am a good friend, wife, and daughter, but I'm also so much more.

Cheers!