Identity.

Sense of self.

It’s no surprise I sometimes don’t recognize myself in Mirrors.

Three.

  • Distorted self-image.
  • Rapid changes in self-identity.
  • Unstable sense of self.
  • Shifting goals and values.
  • Seeing yourself as bad, or as if you don’t exist at all.
  • You may hate yourself, or view yourself as evil.
  • No clear idea of who you are or what you want in life.

This is the symptom that may be the most difficult to cope with on a daily basis. Along with Seven.chronic feelings of emptiness — it’s no wonder I struggle with goals, motivation, and staying on track.

Also don’t forget Nine.feeling out of touch with reality, as if you’re outside of your own body — just for fun.

And then there’s the fucking ADHD.

Who are you?

For me, the answer changes more than the weather.

To some, I’m the horse-obsessed girl who has had horses since age 11, who showed in 4-H and rode trails and played around with a gaited horse at barrel racing for fun.

To others, I’m the mom at the rock show, throwing my horns, head-banging, front row, at the barricade, screaming the lyrics, living in the moment.

To a few, I’m a pirate who enjoys the renaissance faires and mixing medieval garb with fur tails and the jingles of belly-dancing coin scarves, accented with daggers and rum and pearls.

I’m the outdoorsy cyclist with miles to go, slow float kayaker, trail wanderer, geocacher, meandering through cemeteries.

I’m the computer nerd, graphic designer, constantly on social media. Tweeting, blogging, commenting, deleting.

I’m the recluse who rarely leaves the house.

I’m the loud activist with the signs and the Free Mom Hugs at Pride and standing with friends and strangers to protect choice.

I love genealogy and will dive into a half dozen different family trees at the same time, and then suddenly lose interest and let my Ancestry account lapse.

I love dinosaurs, and terrible movies with dinosaurs. I had one of those inflatable T. rex costumes and wore it lots of places where dinosaur costumes were neither expected nor encouraged.

I’m all of these and more, but I’m rarely more than one at a time.

Who am I today?

I’m trying to focus on sharing my story, but I’m dissociating and having a hard time remembering those people inside.

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