The other day I was talking to a friend I’d not seen in a
fair while and, as usual - Since it would seem you can’t speak to me for more
than 10 minutes without it coming up - I was telling him with unabashed
excitement about my summer plans. I ranted happily about how I would be working
in a school all summer, and before I could even get onto the joy at having a
month to travel the states at the end he jumped in and said with total
certainty ‘That is SO you. You’ll love it.’
He was right. It is, and I will. Well I hope I will. But I
found myself feeling just a little annoyed, how could one thing be quite so instantly recognizably me. Surely
there were a thousand different things that could all be equally me and not me
all at the same time. I am more excited than I’ve ever been for this summer to
arrive, it does feel so me but
equally it feels like someone nothing like me is doing, like a Molly from an
alternate universe is really the one going to camp. Because, let’s be honest, I
don’t feel in anyway together enough to be heading off for 3 months of work on
another continent.
I’m 21 and it scares me that people can fit me into neat
categories in their heads. I know that to certain people I’m one of many
shapes, but still I fit that shape in their head. I’m frequently seen as the
trainee teacher, the young carer, the volunteer, the youth worker, the
daughter, the friend. They’re all true and correct, but on their own they each
feel a little alien. Like it could almost be true, but the shoe doesn’t quite
fit.
I’m beginning to realise that I’m more of a collection of
pieces, a jigsaw if you will. I’m all those things that people perceive and
many more that perhaps don’t shine so obviously in my day to day life. In fact,
in my confusion and exploration of all those things people say are so me, and all those that feel very me
to me, I began to list all those things that I could say truly were so me.
A traveller. And a home bird.
A girl who wants to learn, anything and everything.
An introvert. Yet still, a little of an extrovert.
A lover of spontaneity, yet a hater of changed plans.
A rule follower. Perhaps to a fault.
A seeker of experiences.
A friend to anyone in need.
A kid at heart. Sometimes just a kid in general.
An artist. On some level at least.
Someone looking to do right.
A 21 year old still discovering what she wants. What she is.
And what she could be.
I’m a patchwork of things, all of which could be so very
very me, but that me changes daily and I find myself looking at all the other
things I could be. Should I know now what is me? I don’t know how to begin to know what is me and what is the
person I want to be. How much of what is perceived to be me is merely other people’s
expectations? Or perhaps their expectations exist purely because I’m already on
my way?
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