Who Am I? A Journal of Self Discovery

By Savannah Sisk

This essay is a journey of self-discovery contained in a meager two thousand-something words. As you read you will watch me discover, then re-discover the concept of identity. As you read, you will watch me discover my identity. Along the way, you might be influenced to begin your own journey of self-discovery. Strap yourselves in, and all that. We’re about to take off.

Whenever I hear the word facet, I inevitably think of a polished gemstone in the light: smooth, glittering, each side a different color. This is also (conveniently) how I think of myself when asked the question “who are you?” The answer differs depending on who is asking. I believe that while identity is important, it is also fluid. My identity, the way I view myself, the image that I consciously project out into the world, changes based on who I am around. Your identity comprises who you are; we are undoubtedly different around different people. You wouldn’t act the same way around your mother as you do your childhood friend. Nevertheless, a person’s identity is still a very important concept. It is often heavily stressed in Western media that a person has a strong sense of who they are.

I did not have a strong sense of who I was. 

While reflecting on what I planned to write (or, furiously scrunching up my nose and scowling at myself in the mirror, thinking, who am I? Why is it so difficult to answer this question?) I realized that while faceted identities are completely normal, many of my facets may not accurately reflect who I truly am. By my own inhibition, I am not as I seem. I am unsure when it began, my desire to please everyone. To be liked by everyone. To make everyone happy. Nor can I place a finger on the origins of my fear of vulnerability. My fear of opening myself up to someone, of showing them my soul in all its complex vibrancy and being rejected. Neither are obsessive. Neither are all-consuming. But these insecurities exist within me and as a result of the following combination: wishing to be liked and fearing rejection, I am a facade. Not terribly so. But I always try my best to be whatever anyone else needs. At the expense of sounding melodramatic (which I am sure has already happened) I believe that very few of my friends, family, and other acquaintances know what I am really like. I keep that part of myself hidden, tucked carefully away, because in all honesty it is weird. Loud. Nerdy. Giggly. Worst of all, it is essential. It is my soul, it is my personality, and sometimes it hurts me not to share this essential piece of myself with the people whom I care about. And yet I keep it hidden. Reflecting on this aspect of my psyche caused me to realize that due to my social chameleon skills, I probably seem slightly different to each group of people I interact with. It also caused me to realize that I have a very vague idea of what my identity is and that I very closely relate my identity to how others see me since I crave the approval of others. I was curious to know how the people I interact with see me. So I asked them the question: what do you think of me? And recorded their responses in the hopes of discovering who I am. 

While reviewing my responses I was able to categorize those who I had asked into three distinct categories: speech and debate team members, teachers, and close friends and family. Let us begin with the responses of my speech and debate team members. For context’s sake I will inform you that for the past two years I have been speech captain of my high school’s speech and debate team. So, in some capacity, these people see me as a leader. When asked the question, what do you think of me? They responded thus: “I think you are a very self-determined person. People naturally gravitate towards you as a leader and naturally look up to you.”  And, “You are a great and super efficient leader. You are very productive, and you are great at talking people out of anxiety or stress.”  It is clearly stated that when I am with my fellow team members, I take on the identity of someone who is great at instructing and guiding (the idea of which, for whatever reason, makes me imagine myself posing as George Washington in the infamous painting Crossing the Delaware.) Obviously, my leadership role is reflected in their responses; it is clear that to my speech and debate team members, I am a leader. I suppose I have always been good at bossing people around in a way that doesn’t offend them too much. Moving on to our second category, teachers, I would be remiss not to mention that I only asked the opinions of teachers who I admire and who I know admire me, so. . . oops, bias is inherent, and I acknowledge the bias present in these responses. However! If identity is fluid, then shouldn’t we only care about how the people we like perceive us? Should I care about how I present myself around people I don’t care about? For the sake of time I will conclude, “who knows?”  And move on. When asked the question, what do you think of me? A few of my teachers responded by saying: “I think you are an extremely kind and generous person! You work very hard and are a conscientious, engaged learner. . . You ask very thoughtful questions.” And, “I think you are driven to approach challenges with an open mind. I love your perspectives on topics because [they] often [challenge] my way of thinking and I think a good deal of your peers and others who know you would agree that you have a fresh and unique outlook and that makes people interested in what you want to say, that and the fact that you have given considerable time to study debate and practice writing and are so good at it! When you speak, others listen! I think that you would be one of those women who will change the world.” High praise, to be sure. The final response is much less agonizing for I (someone who does not know how to handle being complimented) to type up: “I think you are an intelligent young woman who has a curiosity of the world I rarely see in young people nowadays. I think you look forward more than you look back. I believe that you constantly wonder if what you are doing is the right thing to be doing. You probably see that as a disadvantage but I see that as a strength.” Based on these responses, it is clear that my teachers (the ones I liked enough to ask their opinion of me, anyway,) see me as promising. This makes sense- I have always been driven, and I suppose that enough achievement has come of my efforts to make me seem all shiny and auspicious. Finally we must conclude this weird carousel of opinions by reviewing the thoughts of my family and friends. These are the people who undoubtedly know me best, and as such their responses were understandably longer and more rich in detail. When asked what they think of me, friends and family deluged my inbox. Here are some of their most poignant responses: My most succinct friend said that I was intuitive. Another more descriptive friend said that I am “smart, definitely a hard worker. . . independent, caring, and self-assured.” Another thinks that I am “one of the most imaginative, witty, and hardworking people that they know.” My Grandpa and Great Uncle compiled a list of descriptors that they felt best described me, some of which were driven, fearless and articulate. An Aunt described me using a series of insightful contradictions, telling me that I am both tenacious and thoughtful as well as demanding and polite. Another friend said that of my qualities she particularly appreciates how “I always make sure to get every last piece of information, it helps you to be the knowledgeable and highly capable person that you are.” From all of this, I can conclude that above all else my friends and family see me as someone who is hardworking- the word itself was repeated in many of their statements. To them I am someone who knows what she wants, and has both the confidence and gumption to pursue that desire. 

So there we have it! My identity is that one someone who is a leader, who is promising and who is hardworking. Along with discovering my identity, I did truly gain insight from writing this essay. . . doing so has revealed to me that perhaps I am known and loved more deeply and truly than I previously thought. 

And yet, after all had been transcribed, typed, and edited, I found myself feeling. . . unsatisfied. I continually thought back to a response which the mother of one of my close childhood friends had submitted. She said that, “no one really knows the real you and your thoughts and dreams, just what you choose to share with others.” Being a leader, being promising, being hardworking. . . Those things aren’t identities. They’re just what other people think of me. Maybe, I realized suddenly, an identity isn’t actually something that varies from group to group. Maybe I have confused identity with personality, and perhaps an identity is supposed to be innately personal to an individual; something that only an individual can truly understand.

While these (lovely) responses have shown who I am to other people, they do not answer the question of who I am to myself. How do I express my identity when no one is watching? 

When I am alone, I believe that I am most like myself. When I am alone there is no one to please, no one to fear rebuke from. How much of myself I express does not need to fluctuate. When I am alone I do not need to be a leader because there are no leadership positions to be filled, no reigns to be firmly grasped. When I am alone I do not need to appear promising because there is no reason to show promise, nor anyone to decide that I am promising. I do not need to be hardworking because there are no adults or friends to say, goodness, I am so proud of you. When I am alone with myself, I do many things. I talk to myself. I hum songs, and sometimes I sing (badly.) I look at myself in the mirror and smile. I giggle at stupid jokes. For the most part, I am a sixteen-year-old girl. Merriam Webster defines identity as “the distinguishing character or personality of an individual.” When all the variables are stripped away, when I am alone with no one but myself for company, I write. Sometimes I feel as if I must shout to make my point heard. When I write, I never have to shout. I may say what I mean clearly and succinctly with whatever nuance I feel is necessary, all in the good faith that the reader will listen. I love to write; I have written all my life. Art is, in my opinion, one of the purest forms of self expression. The art of stringing words like beautiful beads is one of the most coveted. When I write, I express myself fully. When I write, I have nothing to hide. Thus I conclude that my identity is that of a writer, of someone who puts pen to paper because she has something important to say.

Savannah Sisk is a sixteen-year-old woman currently living in the American South, where she spends the majority of her time daydreaming about ways to move to New Zealand. Her work has been published by the Alcott Youth Magazine, Quail Bell Magazine, and Across the Margin Literary Magazine. Her work is forthcoming in the Academy of the Heart and Mind Literary Magazine and Anti-Heroin Chic Literary Journal.