I am a true believer in what is called your ‘authentic self’. This is the identity that is in its truest and purest form and has not been governed, influenced, or created by external means. I do not believe that there is an ‘influence’ on our authentic self, but instead it is something that written in our DNAs. On the other hand and more commonly seen on the forefront is the created identity. This is the identity that has been influenced by our parents, our surroundings, our experiences, or even by the effect of our own choices. For me, and for many others, our teenage years were the most influential years. The biggest influence I had in this created identity, that I still carry on but for the most part have shed off, were my religious days.
It wasn’t anything that she would ever do. She even would always avoid conversations about it: sex, drugs, and alcohol. In all but a few seconds so much rambled on in her head. She knew if she did go, she would feel out of place. She also knew if she DIDN’T go, she would stick out like a sore thumb. Her status would equal those that didn’t go because of some kind of club meeting in the library that night. That was a label she didn’t want, especially now, since she just moved into town. This is THE opportunity to show for something. Looking into Tracy’s eyes, quickly trying to deliberate her response, she keeps hearing the words of 1Corithians 15:33, ‘Bad association spoils useful habits.’ ‘Bad association spoils useful habits.’ Reasoning kicked in, ‘It’s just this one time.’ It was then she heard herself, ‘Hell ya! I’d love to go!’ It was the year’s biggest seniors’ party. As she walks away she mumbles to herself, ‘Am I really going to go? Will my reaction to the drugs/sex/ alcohol give me away? Will I be able to say no? Fudge, hope word doesn’t get out that I’m goin.’
It’s a beautiful morning and I jump up out of bed ready to start my day. I put on my favorite blue pairs of jeans, the ones that are beat-up and stringy at the bottom, because of constant dragging. Then, I pull over and put on my forest green t-shirt, the one with black hearts on them. Last, but certainly not least, I put on the best pair of kicks there are out there-simple black chucks. Confident, I open the door and get ready to step out into the big, big world. Then comes the part I hate. It happens everyday. My shadow appears, takes over, and leads in everything. To me, she she’s such a contrast to myself, but then again she’s just a shadow, no details seen. So she’s open to anyone’s judgment. She is first person that everyone meets and unfortunately for those who only come across me in the outside world, it is the only person they will meet.
When people meet me, my shadow that is, they take me for what they see. How my shadow moves is all they have to read. They see ‘me’ laugh at their jokes- head bobbing. They see me runnin’ as the boys chase me-legs so long. They even see me smokin’ with them-arms reaching out for the passing joint. They see me joining them on a skipout day- shadow disappearing after I go into the car. So as far as they know, I’m the cool new kid. I fit right in. They don’t see the details though, just the outlining. They don’t see the intimidation on my face when they walk up to me. They don’t see the fear in my eyes each time I get into the car with a bunch of drunken people; thank goodness they are using the moment to get shuteye. They don’t see the disgust on my face when I puff those nasty cigarettes. To keep myself hidden, I always make sure I go home before the sun sets.
Light projects a shadow and provides and outline when it shines upon an object. Similarly, I believe- from my personal experience- that when I am put in the spot light, I throw forth or give to others a shadow form of my personality. You will not receive the details of my personality, the things that lie deep within, instead you will get a brief outlining of what makes me, me. In the case of my teenage years, I felt as though I was constantly in the lime light, people trying to examine me and get every detail of me. After a while it seem as though it was automatic that I would allow my shadow to overtake me and very much prove to be a reality. It wasn’t until I was home, alone- in my darken bedroom- that I would feel and see as I look in the mirror- the sketchy image of my dayself change back to who I really was.
