I’ve had several interesting things come up in the past few weeks with different people. Lots of identity conversations. (I forking LOVE identity conversations.)

Labels help people find their “in group” so they feel validated and secure. I have a lot of trouble holding on to my identity though. I am not a very integrated person. I am very different in different settings. (I understand that this variation is actually healthy and normal–but it feels weird in my head.)

When I think of my “identity” I’m not sure which part comes first. Writer? Parent? Wife?

I like that the first word wasn’t about my relationships. I like that the first word was something I do.

I am a teacher by training and inclination. I am an adventurer. I am a traveler. I have been to 27 states and 6 countries so far. I’m far from done. I’m only 32.

I am a very friendly person, except when I’m a raging asshole. Sorry ’bout that.

I am dependable. I don’t give commitments unless I am fucking sure I can keep them.

I am a worker. If there is work to be done and I am standing there, I will not be idle. This is a core part of my identity. I don’t rest until my work is done. That is why my house stays this clean. Otherwise I never rest and I go crazy.

I am a hedonist and a masochist. I have distinct sadistic tendencies but I seem to be able to control them. I am less able to suppress my masochism.

I’m a person who has gone from being poor to being rich and all of it has been not my fault. I was just standing near someone else as a dependent. I have lots of feelings about that. People view economic level as part of socio-economic status and I feel I have none of my own. It wasn’t my fault I was so poor as a child and it isn’t my fault I am so rich now.

So what does that mean about who I am?

I am a gardener. I like touching the dirt. I’m not sure I have a green thumb. (I live in California during a drought… I follow water rationing so things die.) But more plants stay alive each year…

I’m a dancer. I can’t wait in line without dancing. I dance all the time. I just have too much social anxiety to deal with social dancing. I shouldn’t deny that this is part of me though. I don’t have to dance with someone else to count as a dancer. All that matters is that I love to dance and I do it all the time. Many of my “runs” consist of me dancing down the side walk because the song is just so fun that way. My neighbors think I’m crazy, but in a fun way.

I am a support person for a lot of people. The number of people who know they can tell me “I need you” and I will show up is kind of staggering. Overwhelming at times. But I welcome the burden. That’s my net.

Shanna told me once that she would do nice for me because I do nice things for her. I said that was kind of her but really the best thing to do is pass it on. I told her that I appreciate her doing extra chores, but she doesn’t need to go get a job to buy me things. I would be much happier if she instead paid on my generosity.

I told her that when someone does something nice for you, you don’t always do something nice back. Not all relationships are reciprocal. But it is very important to always always pay it forward. That generosity of spirit keeps the world moving on. We can’t stay in a closed loop with very few people. That doesn’t work well. Spread it around.

She thought about that.

I am an angry person. I have good reasons to be angry. If you aren’t angry you aren’t paying attention to the world around you.

I’m an asshole. Sometimes I care way more about me than anyone else standing near me and I will be self-interested to such a degree that I am specifically not nice to people. I can live with this part of my identity.

I’m Krissy. I’m not really Kristine. I still haven’t grown up enough to be a Kristine. Lenora is part of me, but a smaller part by the year and I’m not sure how it feels.

I have lots of feelings about being a Gibbs Girl. I’m a Gibbs girl by injection. It’s… different. But it is the most positive group identification of my life. By a huge margin.

I feel proud of what I have done as a Gibbs. I’m an ok person. I’m an asshole. Sometimes I yell at people who don’t deserve to be yelled at. I haven’t hit anyone in anger in many many many years. At least 6? 8? When did I stop hitting you, Noah? (Not punches, I used to be the sort of woman who thought it was ok to smack men on the shoulder when I was irritated with them. Noah convinced me that it hurt him as much as it hurt me and I needed to stop. Probably for the best.)

I’m a runner. I have already completed one marathon and many half marathons.

I’m a mostly-retired slut. At this point I’m just considered “frisky”. And people only see it on the few occasions in a year we go to a sex party. And sometimes my social anxiety means we don’t even do much there. Ha.

Life is complicated. Time to go swim.