This New Identity

<<I’m not sure how fluid this post will be,

seeing as I’m working this out in my brain as I type.>>

It used to be that my identity was strongly centered around some bad that had happened to me as a kid. But I worked through it and one day I woke up as a compilation of who I was, instead of what had happened. Then, in my early, early twenties I found myself surrounded by incredible people. Even when I moved around and made new friends they were consistently these good, fun, kind, loving people.  I had always been an introvert, but all of a sudden I was the center of my social world. I always had someone to grab a drink with. When people were looking to have an adventure – they’d call me knowing I could rally. My identity was nestled in the fact that I’d managed to love myself and in doing so, gotten some other wonderfuls to love me as well.

But so here’s where I’m stuck – I’m no longer Miss Socialite. I care more about getting up on a Saturday morning and going running alone, than I do about being part of the fun on a Friday night.  And while my liver thanks me, my bank account thanks me, my goals are more solidified, and I’m all around higher-functioning person – I don’t know if I’m handling this transition all that well.

In fact I think I’m actually projecting my frustration onto my beloved friends. I’m a little unsure how to be someone great, if I’m not in the center of all the chaos and partying and planning and laughing and memory-making/blacking out. Am I still a good person if I get left out? Am I still likable if my boring Insta photos get less likes than glamour shots of my friends and I downing Moscow mules?  I’m pretty sure the answer to this is a resounding “yes” – I just have to get my ish together.

So it’s crappy Monday, and I’m making a resolution to stop being so damn judgey. To stop being so damn insecure. And every time I find myself without plans, or worse, left out.. I’m going to remember my goals and go do something that will help me get there.  Because they’re the reason for my declaration to stop raging every Friday night .. And Saturday daytime .. And Thursday night.. And sometimes Tuesday. And why I cognitively decided to stop wasting so much time with hangovers. It wasn’t so I could spend more time moping about with a bottle of wine and some Netflix.

 

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