Who Am I?

“I don’t care what you say about me, just spell my name right.”

— P.T. Barnum.

I can still remember her laugh, short and sharp as a paring knife, as she said, “I really thought you’d be onto more advanced topics by now.” I fully expected to be met with compassion, not backhanded compliments. Especially from my Psych professor.

And maybe — just maybe — she was right. As a 23-year old college junior, my understanding of self should have been sufficiently well-developed that I wouldn’t be dwelling on it. Especially not at the expense of schoolwork. And professorial office hours. Nevertheless, that’s a question that lingers to this day, sometimes taking over my focus like some kind of subconscious leaky faucet.

Well. We know this for certain: I am the sort of person whose feelings might be hurt when people laugh at his sincerity. At least that’s one question answered. And despite the dismissive opinion of my professor, having a firm grasp of self is an advanced topic. And it’s never one we can ignore, lest the answer change without us realizing it.

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