Who Do You Think You Are???

Of course, it can be (and often is) argued that this is the one question we spend our entire lives trying to discover, change, rediscover, accept, and so forth. And I certainly don't have any answers or magical cures for finding oneself. Of all the selves that run about in my mind, I pick and choose who to listen to and how to behave and what to like and what not to like. Ultimately, I am a collection of all of them. And this is true for everyone; we are a compilation of all the various aspects of ourselves. It's just that some people are little more... "compartmentalized" than others. So my intention here is not to tell you about me, TheSV, in terms of what things I like or where my life sits at the moment or even what things I value. Frankly, those change constantly depending on the situation, the audience and the dominating Voice in my head at that given point in time.

My intention is more to discuss who other people think I am. I am not a very good judge of other people's actual perceptions of me as I tend to attribute all kinds of negative opinions to them that sometimes are not there and othertimes really are. If people never thought the things I suspect that they do, then I could more easily stop believing them, but the fact that sometimes those perceptions are accurate really throws me for a loop. I will try to specify between assumptions on my part and things that I have been specifically told.

People see me in different lights depending on how well and under what circumstances they know me. People who don't know me hardly at all except through limited contact with my kids tend to think I am confident, caring, attentive, dedicated and occasionally over-protective. These people tend to include school officials and teachers, classroom chaperones, the parents of the children's friends who are not specifically my friends, and medical personnel that care for my children. (This comes from what I have been told as well as the image I consciously try to portray.)

People that deal with me through my children regularly know that I am often disorganized and forgetful, but generous, well-meaning, and sincerely appreciative. (This is my own assessment backed by a comment Kid-3 made to The Shrink when asked to describe me.)

Once people start getting to know me as a person separate from my kids, I can only maintain that illusion for so long before the real me starts to leak through. My confidence slips and I no longer take charge and lead activities. I will participate in conversations but not initiate them. My stories seem to be a little superficial. (Not in a shallow personality type way but in a only show one side to an obviously multi-sided coin kind of way.) I sometimes seem sullen, shy, or immature in my refusal to engage or initiate contact. The people who see this side of me are the moms of some of the kids' closer friends, friends of friends with whom I am trying to socialize and most of my extended family. (Most of this assessment comes from my own perceptions backed up by Hubby's comments from time to time.)

Then there are the people who know me. This would be our group of friends, my immediate In-Laws, and most (though not all) of my Internet friends. These folks know that I've got issues. They know I struggle with depression that often makes me do stupid things, things they don't now (and never will) understand. Mostly I think they see me as dedicated to my children, compassionate, creative and intuitive, but self-indulgent and not willing to try hard enough to get things done. They know that my moods change from buoyant and engaging to quiet and antisocial. They see me running a household of 4 extremely active children (two of whom have clearly defined special needs) plus Hubby's schedule and all the household management logistics. But they know I am on SSDI because of my depression. They hear me talk in a positive, optimistic tone about the things going on in our lives, how crazy-busy but ultimately happy we are - and then they hear of my latest bad break. Sometimes they'll hear of the latest set of drama going on (Kid-2 to the ER, Kid-1 getting grounded, Hubby's hurt knee, etc) but then I will abruptly change the subject or throw a joke into it or completely laugh it off. They know I write and am on the computer constantly, juggling this, leading that, following this, researching that, and yet can't keep my house clean. I am a mass of contradictions that make no sense to people. I am a good person with some serious, deal-breaking flaws. I am loving but maddeningly frustrating. I am intensely high-maintenance and mostly not worth the effort it takes to deal with me. (This is what I see and what I have extrapolated based on what I hear these people say about others.)

And finally, there are those people who know me pretty damned well. This would be Hubby, and my Guardian Angel, and Baby-Mommy and The Shrink. There are several others who think they know me but really they fit more into the previous category. This last group of people know about my Voices, about parts of my past, about how I got to the place I'm at. They know that I put up a pretty good face to a lot of people and they also know that it is just a face, though I'm not sure how often they, too, believe the faces I put up. They know how much I care, passionately and intricately, about the people around me, though I feel I hurt them all the time. They have witnessed my double-standards and self-destructive behaviors and they have seen me stand tall and be strong. They know I'm trying, though often I'm not succeeding. I frustrate the hell out of these people. They try to tell me things that just seem so counter-intuitive. And I don't believe them. They make assumptions about me without knowing all the facts. So I don't believe them. They love me anyways, which I do believe and for which I feel deeply grateful but more than a bit guilty. They have hope for me even when I have none (which is more often than even they know, more often than not). (This is some of what I see and some of what I am told.)

But now that I've described who they think I am, the one question that is begging to be answered (aside from who I think I am) is why do I care what other people think of me? I don't have an easy answer for this. Because I do care, deeply and with an emotional investment that even I recognize as overboard.

I teach my children that when someone says or thinks something about them that they don't like, that they should ask themselves first if it is true. If it is not, the other person is wrong and they don't have to care what those people think. And if it is true, they still have decide if they care either about the other person's opinion or about the situation in question. Yet I don't follow the same advice. Because I do care. I base what I think of myself on what others think of me, or (more often) what I assume others think of me.

So...... who do I think I am? I think I am whoever I think you see me as.