I remember being in 4th grade and being assigned to draw the profession we dreamed to do when we grew up. We had probably one hour to execute the task in class. By the end of the hour, every kid handed their dream profession to the teacher. Doctors, veterinarians, firemen, professional dancers... they all had it pretty clear. Meanwhile, I was rushing to finish coloring the 4th profession out of the 6 I drew on that paper. I remember telling myself: “One profession?!! I want to do more than one thing, I can’t decide!!!” and then proceeded to divide that one blank paper in 6 equal parts. A model, a singer, a veterinarian, a dancer, a teacher and I can’t seem to remember the last one, but I’d pay to get to see that paper again. I was, no doubt, the last one to hand their work and I’m pretty sure I was the last one to leave the class that day. The teacher, seeing what I came up with, asked in a very skeptical way: “You sure you can do all these things? That’s a lot for one person”. I remember kind of resenting the way he placed that, but the 9-year-old me answered positively: “I will”.
It wasn’t until recently that my different desires to follow different paths stopped fighting with each other. It wasn’t until recently I stopped having serious identity crises, I guess. I can’t promise I might not have more coming up in the near future. To give you an example, this is what they look like: “Do I focus on writing? On singing? Do I start learning how to DJ, as I told myself 2 years ago? Am I modeling material? What about my interest of working in movies? But as what, an actress, a director, a writer? What about my passion to learn pole dance properly? Am I leaving the thought of learning how to play an instrument behind?” So many questions, yet little answers.
Growing up, — and we can attribute this to my undiagnosed ADHD — I would pick up something I got really excited about, like drawing (at some point I thought I could become really good at it), playing guitar, ukulele, drums, making collages, just to name a few... And before really getting started, would leave it right where I found it. As an adult, now I understand nothing grows where you don’t water it, and that when you do, it doesn’t give you the fruit the same day. I’ve learned patience and self-acceptance. I would beat myself up to these “failures”, which would block me and stop me from moving on, feeling guilty, trapped, lazy and not good enough. I still struggle with waking up and making simple decisions as what to have for breakfast, or what to drink first (tea or coffee?), and the same way with larger decisions as what to do on a day I’m not working (oddly, working days actually give me the relief of not having to decide through the whole day), but I’ve come a long way and I’m better managing one day at a time. Everyday more aware of my own challenges and the difficulties they represent for me, of my very blessings, of my surroundings, and the opportunities life offers me to keep growing, to keep blooming.
I’ve always had this urge to be somebody. To be this, or that, or that thing that sounds better. The biggest realization I could have in my young adulthood is that I already am somebody. I just got to choose to nurture it. It is a choice. To see it, to know it, to act like it and to act on it.
Now, there’s no urge. There’s just being.
