From Me to Little Me

"You've changed."

This remark, in all of its delicate configurations, is hurtful.

I was recently sifting through old photos on my family's Shutterfly account, lost in the nostalgia of the moments captured by my mom's digital camera throughout my childhood. My family has always relayed to me the craziness that was me growing up, and I do vaguely remember that part of myself. Sure enough, in every image I swiped to, I was always the most chaotic subject of the photo. Whenever reminiscing at any family function, family members have always reflectively recounted how I used to be so "beyond carefree," but sometimes in a tone that was more wistful than purely nostalgic. And it's true, I was arguably far more undone than other children in comparison, and that was an admiringly infectious attribute of my young disposition.

Thinking about this used to make me deeply disheartened. How could someone so outwardly uninhibited and sociable become such a restrained and distant shell of that person? Where had I lost that old sense of buoyancy? What would that little girl think of this new person who has taken her place?

I also noticed a shift in the type of comments from the people around me from "Oh Ella, she'll do it, she will do anything!" to a starkly different tone of "Oh Ella, she would never, she would never do anything like that." These comments were made without any sort of ill intent, of course, but I still felt as though I was depleted of any ounce of vivacity that I used to overflow with. It was like all my life I had been bound with this gift of confidence, and then one day I woke up to realize it had vanished without me even having a say. "That's me," is all I could really respond in blind acceptance.

During this time of feeling dispirited toward myself, what I did not realize was how expected and frankly crucial it is for people to change alongside their collection of experiences and knowledge. Whoever said ignorance is bliss was not lying, and so of course, we are not going to be an exact replica of the qualities we exuded when we were children as we learn and grow.

Beyond this, I found, was that this constant reminder of how tense and anxiety-ridden I had become, in the form of innocent remarks or self-deprecating jokes, had quite literally manifested itself into my reality. The more that I, or others, humored on my troubled mentality, the more I genuinely lived up to that expectation and became more "troubled." This brings me to this fascinating quote that I have seen trending a lot more recently. Charles Horton Cooley, in capturing the complexity of identity, said, "I am not who you think I am; I am not who I think I am; I am who I think you think I am." I know, a bit confusing, but read that again. What the sociologist is saying, put simply, is that individuals develop their concept of self by observing how they are perceived by others, a concept coined as the "looking-glass self." If you feel that people see you a certain way, chances are you are going to attempt to live up to those expectations and embody that identity.

Now, let me say this. You have absolutely no responsibility to be the same person today that you were yesterday. You do not have to be the same person tomorrow that you are today. It is not your job to try to fit other people's perceptions of you.

Throughout your life, you are going to change again, and again, and again. You are going to lose yourself, find yourself, lose yourself again, and then search for yourself only to realize that it has been you the entire time. It is actually up to you to learn and transform for the very sake of your inner child, so that you may come back to him or her, stronger, wiser, and ever improving.

I am also very grateful to say that recently I have truly felt like “my old self again.” But that is really just me. Not my old self, not my new self, but simply me.

"You've changed."

Well, I'd hope so.