The problem with “I”: Burying a dead identity and tending the seed of a new one.

I have a problem with the article “I” that absolutely bothers me in a way that I cannot ignore. My conception of “I” is something laced with vanity. In my mind, the world is so big that its happenings cannot be revolving all around just me, and even if they are, they cannot possibly be the most important in the whole world. And even if I do think that I am that girl – which I do, by the way- I need to actively create space for other stories and perspectives that do not include me as the main character. Now, whether that is actually true or not, is something that I am yet to find answers to somewhere in the grey space between “Yes, it’s vanity” and “No, it isn’t vanity”.

In the meantime, I find myself in the apparently inescapable position of having to use the article “I”. I cannot seem to go past the need to talk about myself first before I can move forward to the other things that I think are more important to be said. I have to tell my story.

I have changed irreversibly.

And perhaps, that is the reason I cannot seem to move past the need to re-introduce myself before I can move on to the thing that I love to do: sharing knowledge and ideas; and being flavourful and refreshing while at it.

I have changed irreversibly for the good.

I have always had this obsession with adulthood. It carried within it the sound of freedom for me. Luckily for me, the good parts of adulthood that I envisioned and craved have turned out exactly as I imagined they would be- probably because I only ever wanted one thing from adulthood, which one thing also happens to be a feature that comes with the adulthood package: Freedom. Freedom is all I ever wanted- both to be and to do. It was the result of feeling excessive control and restriction over what I could or could not do virtually all my life, and the heavy weight of obedience that I had to give whether I felt it was appropriate or not.

When I turned 27, I got tired of being told what I could or could not do. I got tired of being obedient. More importantly, I got tired of being tired. So I went on a spree of disobedience. I quit my government job. The one that every parent dreams their child should have. I turned down the offer for the one that was in line. I went back home. I wrote stories that were particularly unhinged, irreverent and non-conformist. Then I left home to just do life on my own terms. I stopped writing. I stopped wanting to be anything. I actively pursued mediocrity. I stopped trying to be anything more than plain flesh and bones, with only one goal in life: to exist.

To exist.

That is the only thing that I care about and even now it is the place from which I come to be, do, or say anything. I am stripped of the undue weight of obedience or conformity, and neither am I a slave to the need to be different, unique or special. All I am now is present, and existing.

Now that we have got the usage of “I” out of the way, let us move on to more important things, shall we?

Love,
Anna Grace.