Loss and gain can affect us so profoundly that we temporarily forget who we really are. We tend to fixate on something nominal because dealing with a blow to our core is too painful. When we lost Cat, not only did I lose a family member, but I felt I lost part of my identity. We were a family of 5 – she being the 5th – and then suddenly, we were a family of four.
Cat did not start out as part of my identity. It probably took me a good 5 or 6 years to accept her place at the table – literally. But part of her remains in me – that part which led me to adopt two new Bengals, one last year and one early this year. I had never really identified myself as a Bengal-Cat-Person. I have had many boonie cats of questionable lineage. Now, it seems, I have a preference.
It was a hard decision to open our home to new pets. There was great debate between my son who missed Cat and wanted a new presence in the house, and my son who felt adopting a new cat would betray Cat’s memory.
My older son chose a Bengal needing rehoming. Kiwi Cat came to us in August during the Olympics. He is beautiful and sleek like an athlete, and much admired by visitors. He and my older son are very close.
Strawberry Cat came to us in February or March, when my younger son fell in love with her at a shelter. She is sweet, playful, and adorable. She and my younger son are very close.
My younger son, who had objected strongly to Kiwi Cat’s presence, now is protective and loving towards Strawberry Cat. It seems something in him changed as well.
Neither Kiwi nor Strawberry are the Original Raspberry Cat. Cat still has a place in our hearts and in our home. For a brief time, we were elevated to a 6-member family. Then my son left for college, and we were back to 5. When my younger son leaves for college next year, we will be tied cats to humans.
I find myself in a new world where I am the guardian of two cats, a mother of one teen (used to be a “son” but I’m told that gender is fluid now), and a mother of one adult. For so long, being a mother of two little boys was a huge part of my identity, but now, this is no longer true. It begs an answer to who I am really. Do I go back to being who I was before my family: when the world was all about me? Am I a Mother of Adult Children? Am I old? Did I “become” something just because time or circumstance changed?
Well of course these inklings have been toying with my job satisfaction, body image, and interior decorating as I project my confusion onto my world. Suddenly the placement of that couch is a really big deal.
This constipation has be all blocked up inside. I cannot freely process energy. It’s annoying.
In my reeling, I began a two-month stint of obsessing over something I had never thought of before: getting a tattoo. I am not even sure why I want one. I never did before. I was content to put stickers on my guitar case. But I now feel the need to brand myself with an identifier. To tell the world – and remind myself – who I am.
But, therein lies the rub.
I have searched through thousands of internet posts, dangerously combining various aspects of my life and personality, to come up with proper imagery. So far no luck. But that could be because I have not exactly chosen a tattoo subject. Which part of me is so much more important than the other parts of me that it deserves permanent ink and real estate on my body? I first thought of a wave and a palm tree: combining my husband’s last name and my maiden last name. Then I thought about cherry blossoms. Always liked those. Then a tiger – my favorite animal for as long as I can remember. How about a pair of koi, like on my guitar picks at my wedding? Or a guitar pick? Or a tiger and dragon to represent my kids? I even thought of tattooing my hard-earned Bar Number. Nothing really seems to satisfy.
I thought of perhaps including something of my ethnic heritage. This was a can of worms I probably should not have sprung. When you are from too many places and don’t feel you belong anywhere, finding a cohesive depiction just reminds you that that part of your identity is muddy. How can I proudly display the symbol of a place I do not feel fully aligned with? – or which has never felt aligned with me because of my differences? I think I understand Severus Snape now.
Working out my inner conflicts through writing has always been my preferred method of introspection, but even that was forgotten. I felt like I was wandering in the dark, arms stretched out to gain some input from the world around me that would tell me where I am.
I have not yet fallen to the degree of panic, however. Gratitude has helped me remember Grace and has cemented my purpose. It’s just that the world around me is shifting. Which is uncomfortable. Very uncomfortable. And for some reason, my inner world forgot for a moment that it does not rotate on the same spin as my outer world.
So, some steps to stop spinning.
- Calm down. Stop taking cues from the outer world about how you should feel or be right now. This includes looking to the past, present, or future.
- Count your blessings. Start with the time you woke up this morning and count everything you are thankful for up until now.
- Remember how small you are in the universe and enjoy that fact that a blunder from you, no matter how large, is not going to drastically alter the course of history.
- Enjoy a few simple things: perfect water temperature in the shower, a refreshing breeze, your favorite pillow, the ability to fast-forward commercials.
- Seek out things that make you laugh, not just smile. I don’t know why, but for me, laughter produces a cathartic release similar to tears, but far more pleasant. I find watching pets and little kids hysterical.
- Learn to do nothing and practice a few minutes a day.
You see, identity is not about labels. And identity crises happen when we feel we have to profess our lives as we would loyalty to a sports team. You cannot feel guilty about not fitting neatly into boxes, and you cannot let this alienate you. Everyone feels that way. Human being are far too complex to describe them in a bumper sticker. There is no 120-character limit on who you are.
So next time you worry about your identity, don’t.
You are you. And I am me. And that is enough.