Who Are You, Really? The Identity Beneath Roles, Labels, and Expectations
“Who are you?”
“Oh—I’m Mary.”
“No, I didn’t ask your name.”
She paused. A flicker of confusion danced across her face.
“…I’m an artist.”
“Nope. Not your profession either.”
Her brow furrowed. She tried again.
“…I’m a mom.”
“Still no. I’m not asking what you do or who you care for. I’m asking… who are you?”
Now she grew quiet. You could see her scanning—internally, instinctively—like someone reaching into a drawer that’s always been there but never opened.
“…I’m… kind? Honest? Empathetic?”
“Those are qualities. Beautiful ones, yes. But not you. I’m not asking what traits you have. I’m asking… who is the you that has them?”
The air thickened. Her breath slowed.
“…I don’t know.”
“That’s okay. That’s where most people start.”
She looked down. Then up.
“…am I my thoughts?”
“Are you the one thinking… or the one noticing the thoughts?”
She blinked.
“…am I my body?”
“Does your body stay the same as you grow?”
“No…”
“So then who is the you that’s been here through all of it—changing bodies, roles, beliefs, names?”
Silence.
“…I feel something… like a presence. A stillness. But I can’t describe it.”
“Good. You’re getting closer.”
She exhaled.
“I think… I’m what’s left when everything else falls away.”
A soft smile.
“That sounds like truth.”
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