I used to think I knew who I was and that I had a clear path in life. I was going to grow old with my partner having built a business together, sell it for a decent amount of cash and live a materially privileged life with complete financial independence – the modern day dream. How life can change when you lose everything. Whilst I can’t deny that the process of establishing a new identity has often been exciting and fun, it has also been filled with pain, rejection, frustration and fear.
I read an article recently (link here) and the author made a point at the end that really resonated with me. He suggested that once you have experienced depression you see the world for what it is – a tough struggle full of injustice, strife and heartache. You become a realist with a hefty dose of pragmatism. My experience leads me to agree with him. I would add that once you’ve had such an insight, it’s hard to see the world the same again.
I currently overthink everything. After almost every decision I make or action I take, there seems to follow a deep search for reasoning as to why I made that particular decision. Casual exchanges with others are littered with analysis. Not analysis of them, but of me – why did I choose that word? Why didn’t I say what I was really thinking? I’m even analysing why I’m publishing this particular blog. Is it truly to help others or is it to seek validation? I’m spending a lot of time in my head and giving myself a hard time in the process. Read this article in The Guardian if you’re an over thinker like me – very useful!
What struck me most on my recent trip to Australia was my lack of decisiveness, and at times enthusiasm. I questioned whether it might be my depression rearing its ugly head once more, but that didn’t feel right. Conversely to my experience of depression, I am able to be emotional. Depression stripped me back to being a neutral vessel, navigating in darkness. It doesn’t feel like that this time. But when people have asked me for my opinion on something, I just don’t seem to have one. That is unless there are opinions available for me to choose from (an example being politics – I can read a range of opinions and select one to side with). But searching for strong opinions or decisions within myself seems to bear little fruit these days. I’ve discounted it as being relaxed, indifferent, chilled out, not fussed… but there’s something about these explanations that doesn’t seem congruent. I want to have opinions and be decisive!
I read in my journal about my Ayahuasca experience recently. I noted a particular moment where I expressed to Erik (the healer) that I felt I had been given a second chance, a rebirth. I know that sounds a little crazy but it was genuinely what it felt like. I had spent the first two ceremonies purging old behaviours and reconciling early life traumas. What followed in the final ceremony was a review of my ‘old life’ – all the times I’d disrespected others and been unkind to myself, all the relationships I had to leave behind to move forward. It was a painful but necessary farewell to the past.
Despite my enthusiasm for travel, exploration and being out of my comfort zone, I feel that the world (and perhaps more so, life in general) is a scary thing to navigate, full of conflict and struggle.
When I think about a rebirth in the context of how I am currently experiencing life, it does make sense. As I sat writing my journal on the flight coming home, it struck me that I feel as if I am experiencing the world as a naïve child. Just like a child who has yet to form their own opinions and seeks direction from those around them, it seems I am doing the same. Despite my enthusiasm for travel, exploration and being out of my comfort zone, I feel that the world (and perhaps more so, life in general) is a scary thing to navigate, full of conflict and struggle.
At the same time as experiencing this world as if I’m some kind of alien visitor (questioning why we have wars, why politicians are full of such hatred, why people spend crazy amounts of money on things they don’t need) I do feel myself resonating with certain things more than others. But this also comes with its own set of conflicts. Despite me closing the book on my previous life back in Peru, I cannot simply forget it. I remember how certain things used to feel good, and yet in my ‘new life’ I don’t feel the same about those things. There was a time when I loved nothing more than going out every weekend, having far too much to drink and writing off my Sunday’s to a hangover. I would joke with friends about how awful I felt and boastfully recall stories of embarrassing incidents. I know that many people ‘grow out’ of such antics as they get older, but the pace with which my feelings toward such things has changed is notably and uncomfortably fast. It feels less like an evolution and more like a revolution and at times I find myself feeling quite lonely in this search for meaning.
My past identity is exactly that – in the past. It’s like an old item of clothing that not only doesn’t fit anymore, and one where you think “what on earth was I thinking wearing that?!”.
I am often told that I articulate my feelings well, and that my writing gives readers a clear insight into my world. One of the reasons I’ve struggled with this blog for the last few months is because I have (I hope temporarily) lost that ability to be so articulate, to know so accurately what is going on in my mind. It is genuinely the most bizarre place in which I find myself. An unusual terrain in which I feel ill-equipped. My past identity is exactly that – in the past. It’s like an old item of clothing that not only doesn’t fit anymore, but one where you also think “what on earth was I thinking wearing that?!”.
I don’t want this to read like I am in crisis. It doesn’t feel that way. I recognise (I think) that this is a crucial stage in defining who I want to be in my new life. I’m exploring new things, meeting people, travelling, writing, reading. My intellectual mind reminds me frequently that this is an exciting time for me. I am free to decide upon my destiny without being wedded to physical or emotional constraints, except perhaps paradoxically the constraint of not having constraints! Despite this, a part of me grieves the old Adam who would be far more care free and less self-analytical.
Ambiguity is a necessary place in which you can explore, test out, dabble, mess up, find clarity and make decisions.
I always wanted this blog to be a true reflection of where my head is at and not just a perfectly polished, edited version of my life. Because life really isn’t like that, for anyone. Yet I think others do live with less ambiguity. These people seem to have a stronger sense of self, and a clear intended direction of travel. Perhaps I find these people so attractive because in some way they emanate certainty – and we all crave that. I feel I am in the process of becoming one of these people, because this ambiguity is all part of developing that sense of self, that same strong direction of travel. Ambiguity is a necessary place in which you can explore, test out, dabble, mess up, find clarity and make decisions. In the context of where I find myself right now, ambiguity might just as well be called the “Adam 2.0 creation laboratory” (or perhaps something catchier!)
I guess both the beauty and struggle of this life is that we can change and recreate ourselves at any time. Whether it be where we live, the people we choose to be with, our careers, our beliefs, etc. There may well be big consequences that follow such changes, but we are relatively free to reinvent ourselves at any given moment provided we can accept the subsequent outcomes.
In the midst of all this ambiguity and experimentation, there are some common themes that consistently feel ‘right’, which is reassuring. I know I want to help others live more fulfilled lives. I get great satisfaction from exploring how our minds can hold us back from being our true selves and thus achieving our full potential. For that reason, I’m 100% committed to my studying psychotherapy. I also know that I love to travel. I’m not particularly cultured, big on museums or history, but I do love immersing myself in different and diverse communities and living like a local wherever I go. I know that I love nature, and whilst I thrive on the buzz of big cities, I keep coming back to the idea of a more rural base to nurture my soul. Finally, I know that I have a huge capacity to love, I have an open heart and I can be open and vulnerable with the right people.
So I have concluded that I will simply accept the discomfort and sometimes painful side of ambiguity and see it as a helping hand in my personal growth – something that can help me define my new identity. I started 2017 as a very different Adam and I’m sure I’ll say the same again twelve months from now. Here’s to embracing ambiguity!