Like the edgy protagonist of an epic jrpg, I’ve always struggled with the question of who I really am. The truth is, I once knew, but have made myself small for many years. I’ve given away so much of myself to so many people over the years, that I no longer possess enough to know what the remaining pieces mean.
I’ve had this sense for a long time, the core concept of who I am deep down. But I realized that I’ve mostly defined myself by the things I like - my hobbies, and interests. Of course those are important in shaping who a person is, but they are more the ripples of that person, and not the foundation.
What’s more, I feel as though I can hardly even define myself by those hobbies anymore, as most of them I haven’t even touched in years. I haven’t dusted off my keys or picked up my camera with intent since 2016. I haven’t even written anything definitive or meaningful in just as long, if not longer. Can I even call myself a musician anymore? A photographer? A writer? My streaming is sporadic and uninspiring, and yet I scarcely feel as though I can play a game anymore unless I’m streaming it, otherwise, would I be wasting it?
It’s depression, of course, that clouds those passions of mine. Where the depression, the sadness, the loneliness once were muses my creativity flourished under, they are now shackles. The true gravity keeping me earthbound. Where does the depression come from, though? For all intents and purposes, my life is pretty excellent at the moment. Married to my best friend, living in a druid’s paradise, wonderful cat children, debt-free and living comfortably, family in good health, supportive and loving friends, about to start work doing something incredibly awesome...The only thing missing, is me.
I’ve been hurt so many times throughout my life, that I understandably have withdrawn into a shell, by a considerable amount. I’ve tried desperately to rebuild and put myself out there, but time and time again, I’ve just been given more reasons to feel at peace with that decision. I think the real issue is that I no longer know who I am without the heartache - or if there ever was someone there to begin with.
The truth is, I’ve always been devoted to everyone and everything, except myself. It’s been so damned important that everything I do has meaning and purpose, that I’ve overlooked that true meaning and purpose comes from within. I was determined to be the best friend, best romantic partner, best daughter, best sister, best employee, best role model, best manager, best mentor…that I forgot to be the best Mouse.
I’m not ashamed that I’ve always tried to give my best, even when it’s not reciprocated or appreciated. I do think that is an important element that does make up part of who I am. Giving a part of yourself to someone or something is sacred. It’s acknowledging that you are willingly parting with something important that you might never see again, and being content with that. Every person you meet in your life will take a piece of you with them and carry it forever, even if they don’t realize it. Ultimately, I think that’s beautiful.
To continue striving toward that meaning and purpose I craved, I instead gave myself to my career. I don’t have regrets about anything in life, and this is no exception. I gave six years to Twitch, and they were largely very rewarding. In those six years I made lifelong friends, met my soulmate, grew as a person and leader, and gained (and subsequently lost) an immense amount of confidence. That time undoubtedly made me a better person overall, and I’ll never let that be ruined by petty sentiments.
But, the same as with everything else in my life, I devoted too much of myself to the idea, the concept, the whispered promise that this could be what defines me. When I was unexpectedly laid off, without warning, after six chaotic and purely dedicated years of full focus and energy, it was a massive wakeup call. No amount of hard work or praise can protect you from that cold splash of water. Six years of either promotions or “exceeding expectations”, rising through the ranks, gaining responsibility and authority, and it all amounted to..nothing in the end.
That in itself…was liberating, after the heartache settled. It freed me, in a sad sense. It ultimately helped me make my decision to move on from my next job as well, instead of spending another six years hoping I would one day be seen. I feel at peace.
About six months or so before I was laid off, we had a speaker come to talk to our team about various things. Something he said stuck with me then, and felt like a hidden prophecy I’d not yet deciphered until the lay off occurred. He said - “You have to accept that everything you do ultimately does not matter. No one will remember who made that feature, process, or decision in one year, let alone five”.
He gave this advice with the intent to encourage us to not take things personally and to not feel discouraged when things change, shift focus, or fall apart. But he was so right on another level completely - ultimately nothing I had done at Twitch mattered, because it’s all done and dusted. I am gone, my team is gone, the program I spent years building is gone, the change and impact I’d made is gone, my memory is gone. That was truly the hardest part of everything to really deal with, infinitely more than losing a job, money, or structure. I felt erased and forgotten.
But when I wipe away the good memories, the growth, the passion for the work, and the pride and accomplishment I’d felt, I can see what was left behind. Every day was a struggle, even when I enjoyed it the most. A struggle to prove my worth, my purpose, and value to the company. To be seen by people, or heard. To feel like I was making a difference, or waking up every day for a reason. To understand the minds of people with duplicitous motives. To play the game. And I simply do not want to struggle any longer.
I’m a big proponent of feedback - I’ve built my career around it. So I find it incredibly meaningful when someone takes the time to give you measured, constructive feedback. In a way, it is showing you that they see you, or how they see you. From there, you can incorporate that feedback, or move forward with that knowledge and apply it to how you continue to operate or make decisions.
I was told recently that the only thing holding me back is that I need to start playing the game. They’re completely right, of course. It’s an unfortunate truth, probably in all jobs, but especially in the tech industry. If you don’t play the game, you don’t typically amount to much.
I realized that truth was actually the main thing that’s held me back my whole life. Because there is a game to be played in every facet of life, even beyond the workplace. Society and cultures in themselves are games, and you either adhere to the game’s ruleset, or you suffer and struggle. I’ve never been good at any of this, truthfully. Maybe in part because I am stubborn (probably in large part), but also because it just feels so…meaningless. So unauthentic. I just want to be me. But how can I be me when I don’t know who that is?
Well, I intend to find out. And who I am is certainly not a discovery I will make by playing the game. I may not know who I am, but I do know who I am not.
Our selves are finite: in heart, mentality, and life. Like that edgy jrpg protagonist, I’ve lived my life in fear of being forgotten. And because of that, can I truly say I’ve lived?
I’ve given less and less of myself over the years to preserve what little I have left, and that in itself has made me feel empty. I have been so desperate to give my devotion to those who don’t appreciate it, and I won’t do it for a second longer. It has weakened me, exhausted me, burnt me to a wisp of a person. I won’t make myself small for anyone or anything ever again.
I write this not for anyone, but myself. The act of writing alone has already started to reconnect me with something familiar. I know it won’t be an easy journey, to rediscover this thread that has unraveled. I’ll relapse, I’ll fail - but I won’t give up.
I can’t wait to meet myself again.