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I Don't Know Who I Am Anymore

But I know this isn't me.

By Jen AiPublished 5 years ago 3 min read
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I couldn't wait to grow up when I was younger. I was thrilled that I had my whole life ahead of me, and it was up to me to choose what I wanted to do and who I wanted to be. I had no idea I would be blindsided in my adult life and lose sight of who I am—was.

I was always told to pick my own battles, but unfortunately, anxiety is a fight I couldn't choose to decline because it came from my own mind. It made itself a home in my body and leaked incessant lies, irrational thoughts and fears, and eventually took me to the point where I stopped living my life. I stopped going out. I stopped leaving my home altogether unless absolutely necessary. I stopped talking to my friends. I stopped trying to make new ones. I quit.

Never did I imagine I would be living this way. I can't bring myself to even consider this living, but rather merely existing because I feel so empty, so tired, so lost and so low.

Naturally I would turn to friends, but in this battle I've been forced to face the reality of who my friends actually are: people who I once had things in common with but now have grown apart. Of course it wasn't always that way. In the beginning of my journey, I was quick to reach out, but even quicker to learn what I know now: when you need your friends the most, that's when they'll show you who they really are.

Most people might turn to family, but that's a battle in and of itself. I have always felt like the black sheep of my family, and it's because I am. I have no qualms for it, but I'm treated as such. I know I'm loved unconditionally, but it's by people who not only fail to understand the complexity of my situation, but fail to know and accept who I truly am; even if I don't know who I am myself.

A paradox weaved so intricately into my mind that I'm forced to face my own reality: I don't know who I am anymore, but I know this is not me. I'm in the middle, perhaps, of who I thought I was and who I truly am. Like a snake shedding its skin, except I feel that much more exposed and vulnerable because I have nothing underneath.

It's heartbreaking to look back on photos before I lost sight of myself because in those photos, I'm looking at the me that was. I cried recently looking at a photo that was taken at a time when I was sure I knew who I was; and I did. I was happy. I was free. I was loved. I was unbothered by the thoughts and feelings that plague my now fragile being. I was ruthless, fearless and willing to take on anybody that told me otherwise. Now, I can't help but mourn the loss of my old self because I don't know who I am, and all I want is to be.

Caught in the in-between is a difficult place to be, especially because I've been here so long. Each time I even try to live normally, I am beaten down by my own mind. A part of me that was once so positive and filled with dreams is now a part of me I wish I didn't have because change seems impossible.

But I'm possible.

I can feel something within me growing. Sick of living this way? Probably. Ready for a change? Yes. Anger? Absolutely, but an anger powered by the fear I harbor, an anger backed by the fierceness I used to know; an anger from this empty being because something new is coming. Someone new is coming.

anxiety
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About the Creator

Jen Ai

You are seen. You are heard. I am grateful you are here.

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