For those of you who are relatively new to my blog, today is my birthday.  On my birthday every year I take the time to write an off-topic post about an issue that I’m passionate about.  Here’s a sampler from the last three years:

2012: Bullying: An Issue Near and Dear to my Heart

2013: I am More Than Just a Chronic Pain Statistic

2014: Sempre Libera

If you don’t want to read an off-topic post, just return tomorrow because then I’ll be back to my regular book reviewing routine.  But if you do, stay tuned for a discussion about identity, healing and discovery.

---

Last year I talked about tasting freedom.  Just tasting what the outside world was like when I travelled and then being dragged back down to the horrible reality of my hatred-filled small town.  I said that when you taste freedom, you never want to go back and coming ‘home’ was like being woken from a beautiful dream.  It was jarring and so disappointing.

Well, this summer I moved to the city.  Not necessarily the city I want to settle down in permanently, but a fairly major city that offers me opportunities that I never would have had back home in my small town.  Before I moved I was excited about finally being able to be my real self.  But now I’m faced with a problem: who or what is the ‘real’ me?

I’m not the first person to observe this but I think I’ve been pretending so long, keeping up a facade just to survive in my small town, that I don’t know who I really am anymore.  What are my interests now that I’m not so confined to the narrow definition of what was socially acceptable back home?  What kind of people do I want to associate with now that I have more of a choice?  Basically, who am I?  Who is the real Carrie Slager?

I’m still finding that out, to be honest.

Since moving here in August, I’ve applied to become a volunteer tour guide at the local antiquities museum for a few hours a week.  I’ve checked out a few of the city’s societies and various clubs but haven’t really found a perfect fit quite yet.  I haven’t really gone out in the evenings because I don’t drink but I will be attending a Halloween party later this month.  And best of all, I’ve found friends that share some of my interests, like reading.

And even though I’m still finding out who I am, I honestly can’t remember when I’ve been happier.  Work is busy and there are always little daily stresses but compared to how I felt six months ago, I am so incredibly happy.  Not everything is perfect and I’ve had to deal with my fair share of jerks but I am also so grateful to be in the city where I can largely avoid people I don’t want to associate with.  In a small town that’s just simply not an option because any conflicts are so amplified in that small, pressure-cooker environment.

It’s hard to express just how happy I am that I’m out of my home town.  A few weeks after I moved here, I broke down crying one evening—not because I was sad or homesick.  No, I cried because I was so happy and yet so angry that I missed out on this level of happiness for years because of where I lived.  I cried because I remembered how anxious, depressed and stressed I was every minute of almost every day back ‘home’.  I cried for those years I wasted when I was in survival mode, rather than actually living.

But those wasted years have taught me something very important: even though I don’t know who I am, I know who I don’t want to be.  I don’t want to be the kind of small-minded person that rejects anything from outside their narrow worldview as bad.  I don’t want to be the kind of person that tears down others just to feel better about themselves.  And I certainly don’t want to be who I was: someone who put on a mask just to survive.

I’m learning how to put the past behind me and focus on the few good times, rather than all of the bad.  It’s hard to move on but it’s something I need to do if I’m going to be able to be truly free.  Sometimes I think letting go is the hardest thing of all but I’m working on it.  I refuse to let the bad things in my past define who I am today.

I may not know who I am but I know who I don’t want to be.  I think that’s a good start.