Who am I?

Who Am I Really?


   More often than what I’d like to admit, I find myself looking at a stranger in the mirror... wondering, who in the world am I?

   I question who I am, and who am I to become. When I have difficulties recognizing myself and especially my actions, I come to the uncomfortable realization that I am forced with the undulating responsibility to pull myself up by the seat of the pants and recreate an identity that I (and others) can more realistically accept. I am unfortunately faced with the Herculean effort of creating and recreating a sense of … Me.

      Am I, the totality of this physical entity called: Sherry? I mean, am I merely a physical body that takes presence in an exact time and location. Eating, sleeping, breathing. Should I reduce myself to such a simplistic and mundane of a creature? I certainly hope not!   Let me explain. I have been recently informed that my oddities have a name. Imagine a label for a defective human being… how great is that? I was apparently born without small fiber nerves in tact. The latter is labeled Hereditary Sensory Autonomic Neuropathy.

    My condition makes me appear to not feel pain. I suffer from a sub condition that consists of my brain being wired differently than mainstream society. This condition is referred to as Aspergers. Aspergers is a substrata that lies in the Autism Spectrum of disorders. So, I suppose that if I were merely a physical body, I would be a defective one alienated from all other humankind. My DNA makes me a mutant here on my native earth, leaving me a one of a kind freak. I must confess to you dear reader, I am prone to an extreme disliking of determinism. Absolutist thinking defers any sense tactfullness or taste, in my mind.

   Am I, simply the by-product of my environment? Reductionistic minds may want to simplify a unique human beings existence to merely a bi-product of the world around them.

   Am I the result of my parents? Of their anger and self-absorption. Can I be little more than the effects of parental misguidance? Can I redirect all of the blame for my Being, back on two young individuals who gave me life and tried to keep me alive? That particular form of hypocrisy, I’m afraid, I can not partake in. My folks brought me into the world, end of story. My grandmother and aunt helped raise me. They assisted in feeding, clothing, and educating my simple little mind. Does this make my extended family accountable for my actions, and my choices? I truly hope not, they have been peacefully laying 6 feet under ground for years.

    Can I lay accountability for my defective-ness on a man who took advantage of my naïvete?-- of people who harmed me by their relentless pursuits of happiness? Can I condemn the selfish acts of Schadenfreude, or condone school children for bullying my young mind- existence? No, I think not.

    Could I be the decisive resolve of my Thoughts? My choices? Thinking without acting, indeed seems pointless. That being said… If every action carries with it innumerable consequences with the self as the ultimate author, then… I indeed have caused my own misery. If what I choose to Be, I become; then what have I become?-- one might ask. Let’s mesh all of my forms of original cause of Being, into a melting pot of possibility, and see what potential arrives from the soup pot of life.

   Stewing and strewing together reality. I am a physical body, trapped in a particular environment, faced to make specific decisions based on whatever circumstances might arrive.

    Yes, this is what I believe myself to be. A tangled web of messy DNA, opportunities, experiences.

    I am a bundle of unrecognized potential awaiting the moment to spring from deep inside of myself and act. I am, the woman that loves, lives and laughs. I cry at sadness, rage at injustices, praise certainty in uncertain times. I am prone to likes and dislikes, but ultimately… I Am. I breath, I love.

   I go with the flow and I enact control over small amounts of my environment. I attempt to entertain a simple place in this world. I attempt to Be.

    I have relationships which I treasure. I have passions which I fruitfully attempt to moderate. I make futile efforts to effect this world that I live in, in small and simple manners. I long, I reach, I direct, I play. I give, I take. I believe and I have faith.

   I strive for life affirming, and shy away from life destroying or self serving behaviors. I sacrifice when there is just cause. And, I walk away when people aim to demolish my being without reason.

   We each create the story of our lives, I am desperately attempting to write mine, but still I’m locked in an uncertainty, who am I really? And what is my role in this Universe, that we live in… I am, an Unknown…