In relationships, I’ve always felt like there were people for certain things. I had friends to talk to about movies, friends to go out to lunch with, and friends to have deep chats about the universe with. It plagued me to think that I had to limit my interests or adjust conversation topics if I was with a different friend. Yet, I didn’t know any other way to be. There was always this feeling in me that I had different selves. With each person, I’d show a different and select part of me but, over time, this felt isolating.
From the very beginning, I was trained to have a public self and a private self.
As a child, I was raised by very private, Jehovah’s Witness parents. My dad was strict in his religion so my mom converted from Catholicism when she married him. Some of my earliest memories regarding religion are getting dressed up to go to church and sitting for hours (in kid time) through sermons. Not too unusual from other church experiences, I imagine. However, it was what happened outside of church that really caused division in me.
While church only felt like 5% of my life, it seemed to dictate everything. Among my father’s relatives, they had long known of his belief system and there was a respectful separation between him and his family members. Therefore, I didn’t see too much of them growing up. My mom, on the other hand, was much closer to her own family and tried to make sure my sister and I spent proper time with them. She did the best she could given the circumstances but, since my mom’s side of the family was all Catholic, for nearly the first 10 years of my life, I never went to any holidays, birthdays, or seemingly festive get-togethers.
I have vivid memories of visiting my aunt’s house (on my mother’s side) and playing with my cousins. Then, when it would come time to leave, they’d ask if I or my family would be going to their [insert holiday celebration] special occasion. I’d always get the questions and I’d always wish the answer wasn’t no. My cousins were close in age to me so I felt like I was missing out on a big part of their lives and the kind of lives that I imagined other children had, too.
In elementary school, my teachers were always made aware of my religion but it wasn’t something I could talk about with friends. I was trained to keep quiet about it because “they wouldn’t understand”. I think my mom would’ve loved for me to just go through the “normal” childhood experience of celebrations and holiday activities but we lived in a small town and word would get around. How? Well, there was another kid in my class who also went to my same congregation. He knew I was Jehovah’s Witness so if I slipped up and participated in something I shouldn’t, he could easily tell his parents and they could get mine in trouble.
When there were class Christmas parties or school-wide Halloween carnivals and Easter egg hunts (yupp, my school did this), I stayed home. The only thing I ever remember participating in was May Day and that’s barely a holiday. Sometimes I would go to school for attendance reasons but my mom would often pull me out early or else I’d just get sent to the library or another classroom to read and work on assignments while everyone else was celebrating.
At home, my mom would sometimes do festive activities with my sister and I because she did not want us to feel left out. Occasionally, I’d try to talk to my dad about what was going on at school but he was not as understanding to the woes of a 7 year old. I remember once being at my aunt’s house on a day they were celebrating one of my cousin’s birthdays. They bought cake and simply sang happy birthday. I knew it was something I was not supposed to partake in but I was already there so why not have some cake? I later told my parents and, from the little bit that my kid brain could gather, my father was not happy I was included in that situation.
The thing is…I was living these different versions of me with my mom, my dad, my church, my friends at school, and my extended family. I felt like I couldn’t just be me. I was hiding some aspect of my life from everyone I was with. All I wanted was to be honest and, instead, I was full of secrets.
What the constant secret-keeping created was anguish and insecurity in me. It wasn’t even that I was telling lies; I was just withholding expression of certain thoughts or parts of my life from people. This manifested in other relationships I had as I grew older.
I changed elementary schools a couple of times and at one point I even made up a story about having a twin. Oh, little Melanie was constantly a ball of excitement and good-hearted mischief. Yet, I was also easily embarrassed because I never knew what I could say or what an okay way to behave was. I’ve always felt like I did not fit in and had an alternative way of being (a story for another day) so I told my few friends that I had a twin. The way I played it was that my twin would “coincidentally” be the one who went to school in my place on those days when I said or did something really embarrassing. I apologize to anyone who actually does have a twin but I did not know better at the time!
I was in a total identity crisis and, when there was news others couldn’t handle, I thought having a different self was the answer. I didn’t keep up the twin story for long but, as I got older, I learned to internalize my feelings instead of express them like I did as a kid.
With time, I’ve been able to assess the ways I’ve separated my essence into easily digestible, bite-size pieces just to get along with others. Admittedly, this was reinforced when I was misunderstood by those close to me. I would feel lit up by an idea, dream, or hobby of mine, only to share it and feel squashed or ignored. Moreover, the lack of understanding from my friends says less about their conversational downfalls and more about the kind of people I chose to surround myself with.
All I’ve ever wanted is to be whole.
I had a professor in college who once said that, in terms of relationships, it is a ridiculous thing to think that someone else can complete you. She said, that idea just makes people walk around thinking they are incomplete pieces until they meet The One. The way I see it, the same could be said for relationships with people, hobbies, tasks, social causes, locations, or anything.
In my mixed up state, I sought validation from any source that would provide it. Each of my different selves thought this person or that thing could be the solution to my inner division. However, I’ve learned that my lack of honesty with me is what sabotaged and repeatedly killed me throughout my life. Now, I seek to integrate the varied parts of myself that I’ve spread out in different places and with different people.
It is exciting but there is still a small voice inside of me that has concerns. It is the insecure child in me that wonders what is going to happen if I don’t have any different selves to hide behind as a defense mechanism. All I can presume is: I will be authentically myself.
Thank you for reading! Have you ever felt like you have divided yourself into different selves for different people? I’d love to hear your thoughts.
Xoxo
Melanie