Misplaced Identity

Today has been the day of to-do lists.  We had a couple of days off from school over Easter break, and now students are shuffling back into campus to hit the books, meetings, work, rehearsals, etc.  As I have been jotting down assignments, schedules, and errands, I must constantly remind the voice inside my head to separate my self-satisfaction from the list of things I must accomplish.   I once had a conversation with a friend here about how this is often a common plague of the Davidson student: as we craft ambitious goals for the future, it’s easy to fall into the trap of attaching your self-worth to your work.   We can get caught up in the art of dream-chasing until it becomes more of a game, more of a box to check, than an actual vocation.   Identity ends up depending on the feedback we receive from the outside world, on where we see ourselves standing on our well-designed game-board, on whether or not we’ve passed go.  But what happens to our inner voices when a piece falls through and the boxes aren’t checked?  What are we missing?   

Over the years, I have found that most missing things have a way of coming back to you in some round-about way.  Thank goodness Davidson is small, and thank goodness we have an honor code, because during the whirlwind that was freshman year I had the unfortunate tendency of leaving my belongings strewn in random locations across campus.  It happens much less now-a-days, but my friends still enjoy teasing me about it on occasion.   Whatever I lost was always found or returned, but the night before I left for Christmas break freshman year, that was not the case.   

I had just finished a mind-numbing Calculus final and was thrilling to be headed home after 4 long months away.   As I crossed off my packing list and checked my purse, I discovered my wallet was nowhere to be found.  Yea.  My wallet.  NOT the thing to loose before getting on a plane for a trans-continental flight.  (Cue freak-out: call parents.  Talk to parents: cue parents’ freak-out.)  I spent a couple hours tearing apart my room along with 5 other friends (yes, I have angels of friends) with no success.  I finally went to the town police and get a letter from an officer verifying my identity so I could make it through security and get on the plane.  I ended up making it home safely and got a new license, debit card, and wallet, thinking it was gone for good.  Then, on the night I returned to Davidson, I open up my ottoman and find – drumroll please - my wallet.  Yep.  Inside a plastic bag, buried within my massive stash of finals survival candy.

Moral of the story, kids:  ALWAYS eat all of your candy.

Without my license and student ID I was the same "self" I had always been, but for what I had to show most institutions for the world, not to mention the airport, I could not be identified as anyone of consequence.  And the truth is, though it may not be in the form of an ID card, I think many people come down with a case of misplaced identity.   We look around us and see people clamoring for status and possessions in the dog-eat-dog world that is our capitalist society.  We begin to believe that all that matters to our lives is what the rest of the world perceives us to be...our scores, our reputation, our success…and we attach our identity to these external, superficial evaluations of ourselves.  The internal frustrations that come with this mindset can end up eating us up, making us feel like we’re not enough, until one day we finally we realize that our worth was never lost.  Only misplaced.

Because you are not a number or a 2x3” plastic card, and this isn’t a game.   You are not your job.  You are not your GPA.  You are not your resume.  You are the smile you share with the world around you. You are the way you feel when you are with the people you care about. You are the way your heart sings when you do the things you love.  You are the vision you hold for a better world for others and yourself.  You are all the crazy, scary, and brilliant little things that keep you up at night; the little things you notice that other people pass by.  You are the purpose that you are meant to fulfill, the gifts you’ve been given, and the meaning you continually create for yourself.  You are a spark that cannot be lost.

And most importantly, you are enough.