I Don’t Know Who I Am
“Are you happy?”
The question catches me off-guard, as does my instinct to respond: No, not at all. I am simply enduring the fact that I am alive.
I am stunned.
I’m twenty-four years old, visiting L.A. for the weekend and having drinks with a close friend from college, someone I haven’t seen much since graduation. The conversation had been light—reminiscing about our carefree days at school, cringing and laughing at the memories. But then he’d leveled me with the seemingly innocuous question:
“Are you happy?”
While I don’t say it out loud, this is the first time I’ve allowed myself to acknowledge the fact that I am deeply unhappy. Why now? At this intersection of truth and raw emotion—the moment I will, years later, recognize in my clients when they realize, suddenly and irrepressibly, that an aspect of their life no longer feels honest to them—tears begin to roll down my face. My friend stares at me, bewildered.
I sit there, feeling ambushed and betrayed by my body. My chest starts to heave as my lungs fight to find air between sobs. I don’t say anything; instead, I plummet into disjointed and booming thoughts.
I am deeply, profoundly unhappy.
I don’t know who I am anymore—and I don’t remember the last time I did.
I feel broken—but I don’t remember breaking.
I tell my friend I need to use the bathroom. Unsteadily, I find my way to the sink and grasp its edges to anchor myself. A scream is building inside of me, but I don’t let it out. I splash water on my face and neck, hoping the cold will snap me back into a reality that hurts a little less.
When I finally look in the mirror, I am met with hollow, unfamiliar eyes. They’re empty. Is anyone even in there? I lift my arm to wipe my face, and the stranger mirrors me. The woman touching my cheeks is me, but she doesn’t feel like me. I feel utterly disconnected from the person staring back. Is this who everyone else sees?
I am dizzy, inexplicably overwhelmed.
Then, it finally dawns on me: I HATE the woman in the mirror. I am confused, frustrated, and constantly hurt by her.
Fuck her! I suffer as she just watches me live a life that I am not even sure is worth living.
So, no . . .
“I am not happy,” I finally say out loud, in an empty bathroom, to no one in particular.
HAPPY PUB DAY!
My book, “It’s On Me,” is NOW AVAILABLE (in stores and online). The passage above is how my book starts… it’s also how my journey of healing from self-loss started. If my words resonate, if you’re curious how my story ends, if you want to learn how to figure out who you are or why you’re here, if you want to build a life you want, or if you simply want to support my work – grab a copy.
It’s also available in STORES!
Congratulations and happy publication day!
Congrats!!!!!!