Recently, it was brought to my attention that I didn't really know who I was. I thought to myself, of course I know who I am. I'm Sarah Rue. Kanga Rue to many. I take pictures, I make art, I write about my observations of society. At first I thought, what are my friends crazy? Do they not know who I am?
This got me thinking, who I am, who I consider myself to be is just a name and a profession. Well, I must be more than that. I'm not just Sarah Rue the photographer. There has got to be more substance to me than that. I thought, long and hard about what else I was comprised of. I quickly came to the realization that the other things that I was made of, were things I couldn't stand about myself. Low-self esteem, a control freak mentality, a desire to please everyone around me, regardless of what it means to me. Despite excelling in college considerably, I find myself with no real direction, and only staying in school to please my family and kill time until I figure out what to do.
I then began to have somewhat of an existential crisis, wonder who the hell I really was? Where am I going in my life? What am I going to do? How am I going to make a difference?
These questions have kept me up for the past few days. Me being me, I made lists. Lots and lots of lists. About all sorts of things, my life experiences, my friends, my poisonous relationships, everything. I quickly discovered that of all of my memories, of all of the life I've lived, none of it seemed that important. None of it really seemed that memorable. I've traveled far and wide across the world, and seen many things that most people will never even know exist.
This disapproval, and unhappiness I was feeling made me feel the worst case of Catholic/Jewish guilt I'd ever felt. I started feeling guilt for not being happy with my life. Thinking, well, there are millions of displaced men, women, and children in Pakistan, living on single grains of rice and contaminated water, why am I feeling such discontent? I should be grateful.
Side not here- my multi-religion upbringing was a wonderful thing that has left me with a level of respect for all faiths, but a guilt complex like something fierce.
Once I rationalized my guilt away, I started to think about my religious roots, and maybe the solution to this unhappiness would be to go back to that. I promptly remembered that to be religious and function in modern day American society, you cannot be; a woman, a homosexual, or someone who thinks freely in any manner. Clearly, I ruled church out quickly. And as quickly as I ruled it out, the guilt returned.
I then had one of those epic, fuck off moments, where I simply said to myself, I'm not living desperately in Pakistan. I'm living in modern, wealthy suburban St. Louis. I've lived a life full of travel, education, and a vast array of people. These are the cards I've been dealt. Clearly, I am here for a reason. No point in feeling guilt for living the life I was given. Suddenly the guilt faded away. I felt somewhat of a weight lifted off my shoulders. But like acid reflux, I knew at some point this guilt would return, so I best find a way to destroy it before it comes back.
Somethings got to change. RIGHT NOW.
So instead of falling into hysterics about the meaning of my life and my purpose, after rationalizing things out, I did something out of the ordinary for me, I sat down, shut my phone off, and read.
I read Alfred Lord Tennyson's Tithonus. A poem and an author I doubt any of you have ever heard of, but an author that I have always considered a hero. The ultimate hippie. I'm very familiar with his literature, because for the first fifteen years of my life, I had no friends, only books. I spent the next few hours tearing my books shelves apart, reading through 116 different books. Not necessarily looking for an answer to my questions, but looking for a way to calm myself into zen.
I found it.
My zen, became my books. My zen is literature. First problem has been solved, I now know how to get rid of the guilt that has plagued me for years. The main questions still have yet to be answered, however I doubt that they will be answered easily. It will probably take years, or even decades. First plan of action, get the fuck away from everything and everyone. Having other peoples opinions, with the exception of the ones I care about, in my life are beyond detrimental. I don't need to know what a eighteen year old raver girl who I met once at a party thinks of me. My friends who understand what it means that I tore apart my bookshelves looking for zen, their opinions I care for.
In short, I feel its time to return into my shell, that bubble I was in for the first fifteen years of my life, until I can find the answers I am looking for. I suggest, if you feel the type of unhappiness and discontent I'm feeling you do the same.
I send peace, love and good vibes to all of you.
