Oh shit! I’m faking it again! Or… am I???
I’m not talking about sex. Orgasms are the one thing I definitely wouldn’t fake because, honestly, what is the point in that!?
Then again, I mostly sleep with other women so…
ANYWAY, I have been doing a lot of soul-searching lately… staring into the ocean, or into the deep grey-blue eyes of my own reflection, and at my computer screen late into the night, ogling a blank word document, waiting patiently for answers. I keep pondering the question: who am I? What parts of myself have really been here all along, what parts have changed, are changing, are unscripted or unlearned, are there any ‘natural’ or innately Heidi bits, is there an authentic me?
Sometimes I feel like I’m living a lie, or a lot of little lies, I tell myself. Like my emotions lie to my brain, and my heart is a master con artist. Like I act a hundred different parts for a thousand different audiences. Some spectators live in the real world while others slyly inhabit the shadows of my mind. I catch myself in an act, my language has been scripted by another and another before me, and I wonder, is this really me? Or is this just how I want others to perceive me in this moment, in this space, at this time? Am I being fake?
Kind of like J.K. Rowling’s character “Fats” I have been thinking a lot about what is authentic and what is inauthentic, hopefully in a less creepy way, but my brain does go to dark places sometimes…
I’ve decided authenticity is bullshit! But it is not impossible. It only exists in combinations and intersections. Trying to find your true self is the strangest contradiction. Like your self is a thing you can look at, pick up, dust off. I always try to solidify my identity and deny it its fluidity and multiplicity. But I am so many voices, so many pieces. And I am made up of other people’s voices: my mother’s, my sister’s, my brother’s, my lover’s, my father’s, my creative writing prof’s, my women studies prof’s, the people closest to me, the books I’ve read, the movies I’ve seen, the soccer games I’ve played, the classes I’ve taken, the drugs I’ve done, the people I’ve dated, the sex I’ve had… the combination is my authentic self.
but I still feel like I’m faking it sometimes.
I am a broken recording device, that remembers and forgets, mixes up memories and lectures and conversations, and puts things out of context without definable sources. Every moment I am changed and changing and this scares me. I want to be something or someone concrete, someone I can understand and accept as honest, authentic, true. But parts of me don’t believe the other parts. Some of my wants contradict my dreams. Some of my emotions lie. And so I cry out, WHO AM I!?! Who am I reeeeeally?
I’m just another lost soul.
I am struggling with identity because so much of my identity has been crafted in my mind around my relationship with another. I know myself as Heidi the girlfriend. Heidi as a lover, Heidi as a partner, Heidi as a half of a whole. But now I am thousand pieces looking for one specific piece to define me. One truth to guide me, one destiny…
Only some parts of me believe in destiny.
Thanks for reading,
Heidi J. Loos