I’ve been wondering lately, who am I? I know a lot of different things that are a part of me, but they’re not who I am. For example, I’m a wife, a daughter, a sister, a friend, and a dog owner. I have bipolar disorder and PTSD; these things are also a part of me. I like things to be neat and clean, I like to eat and to cook, and I love family. All of these things are a part of me, but none of them are who I am.
Maybe I’m like a puzzle; each of those things is one puzzle piece. When you put them all together in just the right way, you complete the puzzle and find out who you are. My only problem is that I don’t know where all of my puzzle pieces are. I don’t know most of the activities I enjoy and the things I don’t like. I have a lot of memory loss, making it difficult for me to know any of these things about myself. There’s so much of my past that I don’t remember, how could I ever know who I really am now? My past is a huge part of me, not all of me, and I’m missing so many of those memories.
I suppose that who I am is made up of my past and my present. Every little and big thing about me is a puzzle piece. My bipolar puzzle piece is no bigger or smaller than any of the other pieces; it’s a part of who I am, just like every other piece. I just wish I knew what the final puzzle looked like. Until then, all I know is that I’m not just one thing, I’m many things. I’m made up of so many things, positive, negative, and indifferent.