Fixed Identities
We are all in a fixed mentality to a certain extent. What I mean by that is that we are all shaped by our experiences - the ones we wanted and the ones we did not. Experiences give us personality, skills, fears, hopes, values, etc. As life unfolds, we find our tribe - the one that best fits who we are or want to be.
Maybe we are not even aware that we are doing it, but before we know it, our worldview has been cast into a mold that is most likely suited to justify our choices and question that of others. After all, we chose this way of life freely. With some extreme exceptions, we are ultimately in charge of who we become, right?
I posit this answer:
Yes and No
Yes - Because of course we always have a choice. And we are ultimately responsible for our own actions no matter what.
No - Because our minds are designed to protect us from any chance of danger. It does everything to guarantee survival, not development through risk.
How it Happens
A fixed identity poses no threat. But unless a change is forced, then we are generally going to be
who we are going to be for the rest of our lives, and if I am being honest, I would be pretty happy with that considering things
right now. I am a young, straight, white male which unfairly affords me arguably the highest privilege of all demographics/ethnicities/orientations. I am happily married to my wife and best friend; we have good jobs, enjoy perfect health, and our trajectory indicates a high likelihood of further success.
But here lies a problem: It is likely that I will reach
some points in my life where I
must change. What if:
- My future child is born with severe health issues?
- I lose my job and need to start over?
- My marriage comes into deep trouble?
- I develop an addiction?
And how about some guaranteed changes:
- The next generations see the world differently than I do
- My skills become outdated and irrelevant
- My physical and mental health deteriorates
- I suffer the loss of a family member or close friend
The ice cube analogy:
Imagine a giant ice tray where you fill it with water and fruit then place it in a giant freezer. Some cubes have more fruit than others, but they all freeze at the same pace. Leading up the point of freezing, we can put as much fruit or whatever else we want in the cubes, but once it freezes, it is solid. There is no changing of the content of the cubes. No adding and no taking out.
That is, unless you take the tray out of the freezer to let it thaw, put other fruits in the cubes, and re-freeze.
This poses a problem though. The thawing process takes time. It exposes the ice to elements that will undoubtedly break down the frozen form that it has taken for most of its existence.
How about another?
The Runner's Analogy:
Every runner knows that there is a moment during every run where you convert conscious pain and labor into this sort of empowered cruise mode. It's a sweet spot where you realize that you are not only going to be able to make your distance, but you may even be able to go farther. It's a point where the brain stops fighting and adapts to the situation. Then, the body responds with a rush of endorphins, much like what I imagine happens to a dog who is tired on a walk, but then it sees a squirrel, and suddenly, it has a new mission.
In fact, Nikki and I started regularly running at the start of the New Year. We tried to go once a week, but for the first couple of months, we had to skip a good number of those because of snow. It was only since March that we have committed to at least twice a week. And let me tell you, that was an immense struggle.
For a while on my runs, the first mile was always the worst, and hills? Forget about it. I had to stop mid-run, walk a little, then start again. My muscles weren't ready. My conditioning wasn't there. Even my technique (yes, there are techniques to effective running) was abysmal.
Nikki and I would wake up Saturday morning, and it was a workout in itself to motivate me into getting my lazy rear-end out of bed and into a change of clothes. I was used to lounging, making a coffee, and watching the news. It was a nice thing to look forward to. But it was not getting me where I wanted to go - that is, to a healthier, stronger me. So I mustered up the will to go, usually to make Nikki happy, and we just ran. Again, it sucked for a while, but completing something at all was good,and anything that resembled progress was great. After our runs, we would go to get coffee and breakfast - high on life and endorphins.
Then this really funny thing happened recently. About two months into running regularly, I found myself daydreaming (Yes, daydreaming) about running farther than I did the previous time. Upon starting in January, I could barely a mile and a half without my lungs threatening to abandon me. But here it was in May, and I was excited - anxious even - to wake up Saturday morning, smell the fresh air, and push my body through discomfort and exhaustion to reach the next mile marker.
Still wondering where I am going with these analogies? Almost there.
Nikki recently shared something with me she had read
about on a Runner's Blog. The premise was that if you are running
multiple times per month, you are a runner. It is not a periodic thing
anymore. You are doing it. That gave me comfort because I found it very easy to identify
with the "common folk" runners who will never become what we see in
marathons or triathlons or whatever. For them, that is their thing. I like it, and may even be semi-great (whatever that means) at it some day, but I will never be what they are.
But that's OK because:
- Writers that never have a New York Times best seller are still writers, maybe even great ones
- Artists who never get discovered are still artists, maybe one in a million
- Podcasters who may influence numbers only in the hundreds instead of the hundreds of thousands are still Podcasters, maybe even lovable ones (Harmless plug)
- And thinkers, doers, and humanitarians who don't become Einstein, The CEO of Amazon, or Mother Teresa are still thinking, doing, and serving their fellow man.
Why do we fix our identities? To justify where we are? To protect ourselves by saying "This is just
who I am"?
Why do we distance ourselves from others instead of simply taking smalls steps in the direction that we know we should (or want to) take?
Conclusion
The Runner and the Ice Cube analogies show us that change only happens when we break down the elements that we have adapted to. It takes altering our environment and our habits. It takes looking at ourselves honestly, maybe for the first time, and admitting that though we want to, we are afraid to deconstruct some of the things that have set our identities in stone for years.
Why should we change?
Because change is the only constant? Sure. But also because survival is not enough. It ensures only that you get to keep life as it is right now. The thing is that simply surviving does not get any of this:
- A new romantic relationship
- A new child
- A new job
- A new workout regiment
- A new perspective
All these things can and likely will hurt you at some point. All these things are risks. But is that where your mind stops? Go further.
- A new relationship is the only way to have love
- A new child is the only way to a kind of unique joy like nothing else
- A new job is the only way to pay for what you want out of this life
- A new workout regiment is the only way to work towards the body you want
- A new perspective is the only way to connect with others in ways that you could not before
Your identity is not that one thing you can't let go of. It is, and has always been, the collection of what you know, what you have done, what you will know, and what you will do.
Whether "society" put you there or you did this to yourself, get out of the box that limits you. It is invisible. It is weak. It is an illusion.
-T
