The 26-Year-Old Identity Crisis

Last week, I had a personality evaluation with a company called Hogan Assessments. I was selected to participate in a study they were doing on young professionals, and with that, I was required to take a series of three personality tests and be a part of a one-on-one feedback session following the tests that went over my results. It was in this feedback session that my evaluator told me something point blank that I had known for a while about myself but that I hadn’t told anyone:

“You’re not necessarily a creative of the visual arts; You just appreciate the visual arts.”

The other day at work, I looked out the window to see a what looked like a 15-year-old kid operating a DSLR camera on his own in downtown Oklahoma City. He was out with his friends taking portraits, photographing the cityscape around him and executing a flawless photoshoot . . . as a 15-year-old. When I was 15, the only thing I could execute was mowing our backyard, and even that got a little dodgy around the edges. Here this kid was handling a piece of equipment worth thousands of dollars and probably getting some great experience, and he probably had to have his parents drop him off downtown to do so.

As I watched he and his friends, I couldn’t help but wonder how the sales of cameras have trended since the development of Instagram and other photo sharing outlets. I wouldn’t know if they would have increased or not with everyone, as well as their dog, owning a camera phone, but either way, 2018 feels like a time when everyone has the chance to be a photographer. As a guy who, up until recently, thought of himself as a photographer, a world full of photographers seems weird.

As of late, photography, among other things, has been a part of a weird identity crisis that I’ve been having. For example, up until recently, I held the job title of ‘Graphic Designer.’ I took on that identity. However, here’s the catch - I didn’t feel like a graphic designer because in my mind, even with the title, I was not a graphic designer. I know my fair share of graphic designers, and according to the calculations I was running in my head, what they were and what I was were not matching up.

To break that down a bit more for the sake of example, in my mind, a graphic designer is a creator - one who is able to make something out of nothing. One who can take what’s in the mind and turn it into a tangible piece of art that communicates feeling, meaning and beauty. Now, what was it that I was doing? I was replicating. I could look through designs, find one that I liked and use a design program to replicate what was done before me in a manner that fit what I needed, but I was never able to create from scratch. I felt more like a graphic replicator, not a designer. In other words, I felt more like I had been making pre-made frozen dinners in the microwave, rather than creating my own recipes for homemade meals. 

It’s hard to place when I started having my weird identity crisis, but I think a good place to look back to is when I started following epic photographers on Instagram. These folks had thousands of followers, captured spectacular imagery and traveled to the coolest places. After following those accounts, I made sure to follow some great graphic design accounts as well because photography and graphic design go hand-in-hand, right? (right? . . .) Anyway, the more I looked into these accounts and the lifestyle of these artists, the cooler it seemed. The work seemed cool, the people seemed cool and all of the Insta-cred seemed groovy too.

For a long time, I think I got confused and lost through social media and in the lives of others. I found myself trying to conform to a lifestyle that others might deem cool, and I even went to the lengths of taking on new identities to do so. Would I have ever liked photography without Instagram? Probably not. Would I have ever strived to achieve the title of graphic designer if I hadn’t seen a lot of cool hipsters online carrying that title? I kind of doubt it. Falling into comparison is a scary trap to get snagged in, and you can lose who you are and what you like along the way.

Now, I’m in the process of trying to get back to what I like, what I want to do and who I’m supposed to be. Now more than ever, I’m terrified of falling back into the trap of comparison and into another identity crisis along the way, and while this current, mini identity crisis has had it’s wake-up calls, it’s also had it’s perks.

For one, I appreciate art now. I appreciate design and its process, I appreciate photography and those who do it for more than a double-tap, and I appreciate aesthetic more than I could have ever imagined. I have learned to appreciate what I’m not, rather than to covet it, and I have (hopefully) learned to embrace who I am, rather than compare myself to what others are.

While living in a world full of photographers may feel weird at times, it’s also pretty cool because I know it’s giving others the chance to appreciate things they never would have appreciated before. It’s giving folks new inspiration and the chance to find a new hobby and new art, just like it did for me. Chalk it up to a new lesson learned, a new chance to be vulnerable and another chance to write.

-Cliff

Cliff’s Note: Comparison is the thief of joy, so don’t covet what we aren’t, but appreciate it.

Who Answers the Question 'Who Am i?'

It's easy to forget who you are, easier to forget who you were and easiest to forget who you want to be.

Desires turn into far-fetched, unachievable ideas, goals turn into dreams that didn't come true and the future looks like it's going to feel just like the present. 

It's times like this when we ask ourselves the questions who we used to be, who we are and who we are becoming and when we a) don't receive any answers or b) don't like the answers we receive.

The other day, I started reading a letter I wrote to myself two years ago for when I was struggling in times of doubt. I wrote it a few days before I picked up my life and moved it halfway across the country for the first time- away from friends and family and into the unknown. This was a time in my life where I didn't have much in regards to things, and, frankly, didn't really know what I was doing, but it was also a time in my life when I think I knew myself better than I ever had. I had dreams, goals and faith, and I knew specifically what I wanted out of life and what life wanted out of me. Lately, however, I haven't felt like I've known myself at all.

"I don't know where you're at or what you're doing now, but at this point, you're happy. You don't have much money, and you're not making any. You're living out of two suitcases, but it seems to be more than enough. You're living on faith, and you don't know what's coming next, but faith is all you need. Money, success and fame won't get you anything, so don't chase it. God doesn't want you or expect you to have a lot of stuff or to make a lot of money. He expects you to trust Him, love others and love Him."

That's a snippet of what I found out of the letter I wrote to myself nearly 730 days ago. It's funny how much can change in such a short amount of time and quickly you can lose yourself, lose your goals and nearly lose faith and purpose completely. It's also funny how well it sounds like I knew myself and knew what I wanted then compared to now when I feel like I don't know myself and have much of what I think I want.

As of late, I've let culture manipulate who I am and who I want to be. I've let the worries of money and career overwhelm me and erase the hopes, dreams and goals I once had, leaving nothing but questions about those hopes, dreams and goals left. Back then, I let God tell me who I was and who I wanted to be, and He formed all my hopes, dreams and goals and provided a way to pursue them. He not only asked the question, "Who Am I?", but He also told me who I was.

When you find yourself asking the question, "Who am I?", who's supposed to answer?

Is it God? Your parents or mentors? Your friends? I'm not sure, and it's probably different for each person depending on what you believe, but I don't think it hurts to look in the mirror at yourself to reflect on the past to find some answers. 

-Cliff

Cliff's Note: Who am i? Look at who God says you are.

Dirty Sweaty Hands

When I was in second grade, I remember coming in from recess one afternoon and having to write down a couple of sentences about a video we had been watching. My hands were so sweaty, I literally ruined the paper I was writing on and smudged all the penciled-in writing that I'd worked so hard to write on the paper.

This is the first memory I have of noticing myself that something was wrong with my hands.

When I got a little bit older, several more ruined pieces of writing later, I remember being at church one Sunday evening. It was during the first part of the service, the greeting part of the service, that I remember shaking hands with a girl sitting near me and her saying, "Ew, why are your hands so sweaty? That's gross."

This is the first memory I have of someone else noticing that something was wrong with my hands.

Sadly, both of these memories are memories that have shaped the way I've lived ever since.

Every since others realizing and realizing myself that I have 'dirty sweaty hands' (and feet), it's been the most self-conscience driving force in my life. Holding a girl's hand is a rarity for me. I never wear flip flops. I write papers with a 'paper barrier' between my hand and the paper being written on. I don't like participating in social situations where I have to meet new people. I only hold hands in prayer if I'm forced to, and probably one of the biggest extremes I go to to avoid hand to hand combat- I purposely 'go to the bathroom' during the meet and greet time at church each Sunday because I know I'll have to shake hands.

That's what happened to me when I let the voice in my head and the voice of someone else tell me I was gross; I let those voices write huge chunks of the narrative of my life, but now, I want to change that narrative. 

I have spent the entirety of my life re-writing who I am. I'm an extravert that's scared to be an extravert because of something that I can't help about myself, and I'm a person who loves meeting people but that's been scared to meet people. Essentially, a big chunk of my story has been yet to be told correctly because of fear and because I've listened to the voices inside my head that are lying to me and the voices of others and what I think others will think. 

Just as Adam and Eve replaced the voice of God with the voice of another in Genesis, I have replaced the voice of God telling me who I am with the voice of others telling me who I am, and it's time for that to change. It's time to listen to who He says we are, not who the world says we are. 

-Cliff

Cliff's Note: We all have our 'sweaty hand' issue. That doesn't define us.