just me

In high school drama class, my teacher asked us to play a name game as a way of introducing ourselves. The caveat? We had to use an adjective that started with the same letter of our name. Me, thinking it would be funny, came up with, "Just Jaime."

Classmates laughed. My teacher did not. She actually made me come up with a new one — I think I went with "Joyful Jaime" which is not quite accurate, but she was satisfied with the change. 

However, "Just Jaime" kind of stuck in my head (hence the URL for my blog). And no, I don't mean "just" as in someone who seeks justice, I mean "just" as in, "It's just me." But what does that even mean? What does it mean to be just me? 

I've always struggled a bit with my identity, but I had a full-on identity crisis when I was 18. Fresh out of high school, trying to figure out what I wanted to do with my life, going to university, and feeling incredibly overwhelmed. When you go from having certain identity points (like theatre and soccer and a high school friend group) to having nothing, it really makes you wonder who you are outside of those things, and I didn't know the answer to that.

And at some point during that time, I had a nice boy tell me he really liked me. I didn't know who I was. I didn't even like myself at that point. If I didn't know who I was, how could he? And how could he like me for me when I didn't know who me was? (Confused yet? Don't worry, I am too).

I was so unsure of everything I was doing that I backed out before things ever progressed, partially because I didn't want to hurt him if it turned out I couldn't feel the same way, but also because I felt I needed to find myself. Super cheesy way of phrasing that, but true nonetheless. 

It took me two years. I mean, I'm still figuring stuff out about myself every day, but it took me two years to start to like myself again, to start to feel like myself again. And therefore, could let someone else like me too, or acknowledge that was even a possibility. But during those two years, I always wondered what would've happened if I had given him — and us — a chance. Now, I don't feel guilty about it anymore because I can't change what I did or didn't do. But it made me realize that while growth can happen independently, it doesn't have to be that way. It can actually feel quite isolating at times when you go it alone. 

(Slight digression with the boy talk, but important nonetheless.)

And even if it's not done with a romantic partner, having a support system is crucial when you're figuring yourself out. Besides, who else has the guts to tell you that your thought processes are harmful other than people outside your own head? Or alternatively, who else has the guts to say you're a wonderful person when you can't bear to say it to yourself?

I don't know what would've happened if I had continued seeing that boy, but with or without him, I figured myself out, slowly yet surely (and with a little help from my friends). What I do know is that I am lucky to have the people I have in my life.

There are days where I still don't feel like I know who I am or what I want. There are days where I ask myself, "What am I supposed to do now? How am I gonna get myself out of this one?" But at least now, I have things that don't rely on others and/or their opinions:

I like the way I look and I don't care who feels the same way. Does that mean I accept compliments? No (but I'm working on it).

I like writing regardless of what people think of my words. I don't try to write for others (unless it's for work then that is very much untrue), I write for me. I write to process my feelings. I write to share my opinions. I write because it makes me feel better (and sometimes worse) and helps to sort out the tangled threads in my head.

I like singing even though I'm bad at it. I am pretty sure my parents are so fed up with me working from home because I basically sing all day. I sing in the office sometimes if I'm not careful.

I also like dancing which I am also bad at but it is 100% okay to be bad at the things you enjoy doing. And what does being bad at dancing even mean? What does being bad at anything really mean? Just because you might not be able to make a career out of it, doesn't mean you're bad at it. Do what you love and do it the way you want to.  

I like the way I care deeply about bees. I want to be that weird bee-obsessed person. I want to keep bees. 

I like the way I surround myself with things that are yellow. It brings me joy. And I like the way I look in yellow. One of my best friends once described me as summer vibes and I intend to continue that. 

I like the way I care about others (even if I sometimes overdo it). 

I like how I throw my heart and soul into the things and people I love. I like my determination. It does mean I get hurt easily because I always believe in the best of people, but I wouldn't change that. 

I like that I wear my heart on my sleeve, that I'm not afraid to cry or to say I'm upset. I like that I get excited when I see dogs and I don't care who hears me squeal with joy when I do. 

I like the way I create. I like the way I dream. I like the way my imagination runs wild. 

I like flowers. All I want in this world is to have a home in a wildflower field (a home with a yellow door). 

I like the way I strive to make people feel happy — although hopefully, it won't be at the expense of my own. 

None of these things are jobs or chores or require approval. They are just things I like to do and things I want to bring to the world. They are just things I want to emanate. They are just things that I want people to associate with me, but if they don't, who cares? They're just me.