Learning Who I'm Not

Hi Friends, Janet here.  

We've has some newsy posts lately, so it's time to go introspective for a change. Any of you who have had a year of major changes will be able to relate--aren't we constantly wondering if this or that is a good thing, if all the changes are worth it in the long run, if "we" are changing, or if "we" stay the same while we observe things happening around us?  I know too much introspection can get you stuck in a morass of SELF, but it can also be very healthy to engage in it from time to time.  

Things I have learned about myself this year:

1. I am not a writer waiting for her chance to burst into words. Now, I have long thought that "writer" was part of my identity. I enjoy writing. I admire writers. I love books. I love reading. At different times in my life I've had people tell me that I should be a writer, and I've said it myself. Sometimes in my life I've felt like I have a book inside, waiting to come out. So, when we embarked on this year abroad and created a blog to document it, I thought for sure this would be my thing. I imagined regular posts from me, newsy and profound at the same time. I imagined teaching my kids to write well, helping them find their voices, sending them out into the blogging world. I imagined journaling daily about everything. Well, I don't need to tell you that hasn't happened!  For months I felt really bad about that. I felt the pressure I had put on myself, and I thought surely my muse was just around the corner. I would go to bed at night resolving to be my own taskmaster the next day (blog post by noon, and get those kids writing!), and the next day would pass without my ever giving it a thought. I no longer make friends with guilt, so my awareness of my failure didn't ever grow into guilt, but I have done a lot of thinking about why I have so consistently failed in this area. And finally I've realized it...I was trying to fit a skill I have into an identity that wasn't me. Writing I may love, but the person I pictured doing the writing was imaginary.

Is this my new favorite place to drink tea?

Ah yes--something I definitely want to
be a regular at!

2. I am not a café regular waiting to find just the right café at which to be a regular.  This is another image I've long-cherished: they know your name, they know your drink, they know your favorite table and what days you come in. I always thought I wanted to be that person and life wasn't letting me try it!  I thought my schedule, my kids, my dietary habits, or (especially) my budget were all that was standing between me and my dream of being a café regular. Turns out that's not true either. Here in Vietnam I frequently drink coffee or fruity smoothies out. I have been to dozens of delightful, inexpensive cafés, those run and frequented by Vietnamese as well as those catering to foreigners.  When I go to one I really like, I think to myself, "This is it! I love the view from this table! I love this drink! I'm going to come here every day from now on!"  And nothing prevents me from doing so. Except me. For a while I just thought I hadn't found the right place yet. Hadn't gotten my routine down yet. Whatever. Turns out, I have realized that I actually don't want to be that regular. I like finding new places.  I like being anonymous. I like being remembered but not exactly expected. I'm regular-ish at a lot of places, but no one (myself included) knows exactly when I'll be going there next. That whole dream of being a creature of habit?  I was trying to be what I'm not. 

These are just two examples of a general theme I've been experiencing here: "learning who I'm not."  It doesn't sound that great, does it?  But it's actually very liberating. When we left the States I knew we were in for a lot of challenges, but I was looking forward to having all new problems. In a similar way I was looking forward to creating new habits, being a new person if I wanted to be. All new friends, complete change of lifestyle, that would make a new me, right?  I imagined diving into learning Vietnamese and becoming really good at it. Nope. I learned that I want to learn language as an introvert, not an extrovert, and that's pretty useless for a short term experience. I imagined myself shopping at open air markets and enjoying access to all those Asian ingredients I'll drive three hours to Portland to get when we're back in Oregon. Nope. Turns out I don't like the mixture of smells at such markets, so by the time I've been there ten minutes, nothing is appetizing. And without a firm grasp of the language, shopping in such markets means constantly wondering if you've understood the price clearly, wondering if you are going to be cheated.  I caved.  When I go food shopping, it's at one of the two nearby, air-conditioned supermarkets. For a while I felt like a failure for this and didn't want people back home to know. I told myself that after a few more weeks, or when the weather cooled, I would start my fresh market habit. Finally I realized again, it's perfectly fine not to be that person. The image in my mind had no real claim on me; I did not have to live up to it.

Trying to live up to the image in one's mind is, I'm sure, familiar to everyone. I'm not going to philosophize right now about whether that's always a bad thing or not. (But I'd enjoy that conversation!) I do believe that what I've been experiencing is a positive thing. I've been finding out that the person I really am is not an image, not something that can be summed up in a few quaint stereotypes. Tim enjoys the tongue-in-cheek quip, "Stereotypes are a real time-saver." We know we're not supposed to stereotype other people, but have you ever realized that you might be trying to stereotype yourself?  It would be such a time-saver if I could be that girl who stops at her regular café on the way to the fresh market (carrying a basket that will come home with exactly the right colorful fruits and veggies and a bouquet on top) and then goes home and blogs about it all.  That person's life sounds so simple, so beautiful, so easy to emulate. Turns out I don't fit that stereotype. Turns out I'm something other than what I do, other than what my life looks like in broad strokes.  I could list the ingredients of my life in Bend and the ingredients of my life in Da Nang, and most of what I listed wouldn't actually be who I am.  They would be the things I do that are easy to define. In reality, I am the person you know me to be, the person God knows me to be, the person I'm still figuring out, the person who does certain things and doesn't do other things. The outer makings of my life are merely clues to who I am, and who I am is both simpler and more complex than what that list of doings would reveal. As I've realized that I am not a bunch of things I imagined myself to be, I've realized that in some ways, other people know me better than I know myself. They don't know what images I'm carrying around, trying to live up to. They just know who I seem to be when I'm interacting with them, and the people who see me consistently probably have a clearer picture of who I am than I do at times. I don't know how clearly this is communicating to you, but it's something I've been gradually coming to realize for quite a while now, and as a result I am relaxing into a me that is less glossy and more reliable than what I was trying to be. I like it. And I think it's a me that you knew all along.  Thank you for being my friends!

What ARE we seeing here?  This is my face swapped with my
sister Karen's face.  Totally weirds me out.
Somehow this picture seemed to go with this post.