Who are you?
When someone asks this question, it’s easy to fall back on the obvious. . .
- where you’re from
- what you do for a living
- if you’re married or single
You know, the usual suspects.
But you also know how utterly inadequate (and often boring) those answers are.
You do know that, right?
Some people say they’re the sum of all their experiences in the past. They have long, drawn out stories of why they are the way they are.
Others, thinking they’re clever, declare adamantly “No! I’m better than my past because I’ll never be like my mother/father/that/them!” but that just makes their future a reaction to the past.
Which leads us back to the beginning.
Who are you really?
And what if that answer was generative instead of related to the past?
:: capable of producing or creating
In the moment, you can create who you are.
That doesn’t mean you make it up or lie; just that you consciously choose who you say you are.
Your DNA gave you form.
Your words create your world.
They create the WHO of you.
I am. . .
first-born * Aries * prairie girl * ocean lover * Mediterranean * creator * listener * lover * ass-kicker * Fire Starter * wife * daughter * sister * BFF * smart * playful * passionate * writer * coach * instigator * blogger * book lover * pescatarian * extrovert * a collision waiting to happen * spark to your flame * leader * photographer * muse * gypsy spirit * cage rattler
I am all that. . .and more.
Because even that juicy list of descriptors doesn’t cover the gift that is me.
It does tell you a helluva lot more than the facts though:
Nothing wrong with those facts. They’re just a little dry.
Mostly, you haven’t got a clue who you are.
You fall back on old, familiar stories from the past. It’s easy, you don’t have to think about it, everyone does it. I get it.
But imagine playing with it a bit.
And the next time someone asks, “Who are you?” you smile so big before responding. . .
I’m a gift, who are you?
* Cue dazed, wide-eyed look of bemusement.
Sounds ridiculous, but trust me, it engages people in ways the facts will never do.
My personal favourite is “I’m a collision waiting to happen” and then I have a blast explaining what that means to me.
I unwrap the gift and share my passion, my zest for life, my joy.
Because really, joy trumps fact every time.