Personal Identity; a concept of oneself most individuals are expected to possess. Ever since the personality quizzes and future career planning units that took place throughout courses in elementary and middle school, I have found the importance of self-concept in adult life to be abundantly clear. In addition to determining a pathway to future success, personal identity allows for interpersonal connections and relationships. Quite honestly, even without all the external pressures, a sense of myself cultivates feelings of personal security, calmness, and acceptance. Often times in the midst of challenges, I find an understanding of personal identity to be lost, which only contributes to the whirlwind of complex emotions felt. Because these
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As a four-year-old, much of the situation was hard for me to grasp, all I really understood was that I was not normal. Being the egocentric, naive, typical toddler I was, that realization was a bit hard to swallow. To cope with my shock, I told myself the girl lying in the hospital bed unable to pee without the assistance of medical equipment was not me. I was the girl who danced around the living room with her sister, dreaming about being a princess when I grew up. Clinging to the version of myself I thought to be true was the only way I stayed my sane, happy go lucky self. Many preschool girls likely had a similar concept of themselves; a momentary questioning of myself as a four-year-old does not exactly count as a struggle to find my personal identity. After gaining more years of experience, I now recognize that as the point in my life in which being different started to scare me. Even as a four year old, societal pressures already had powerful influences over the person I strived to be. When I look at the scar that still crosses my stomach, I cannot help but feel ashamed; I am branded with a difference, and that terrifies me. This concept of fearing difference is at the core of my struggles with identity and became especially clear to me later on in my
As a four-year-old, much of the situation was hard for me to grasp, all I really understood was that I was not normal. Being the egocentric, naive, typical toddler I was, that realization was a bit hard to swallow. To cope with my shock, I told myself the girl lying in the hospital bed unable to pee without the assistance of medical equipment was not me. I was the girl who danced around the living room with her sister, dreaming about being a princess when I grew up. Clinging to the version of myself I thought to be true was the only way I stayed my sane, happy go lucky self. Many preschool girls likely had a similar concept of themselves; a momentary questioning of myself as a four-year-old does not exactly count as a struggle to find my personal identity. After gaining more years of experience, I now recognize that as the point in my life in which being different started to scare me. Even as a four year old, societal pressures already had powerful influences over the person I strived to be. When I look at the scar that still crosses my stomach, I cannot help but feel ashamed; I am branded with a difference, and that terrifies me. This concept of fearing difference is at the core of my struggles with identity and became especially clear to me later on in my