Who Are You?
Creating space in the stories we tell about ourselves
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About ten years ago, I had a supervisor that asked myself and my fellow trainees “Are you the same ‘you’ that you were in kindergarten? Are you the same ‘you’ as you were at 16? Is the ‘you’ that is in graduate school to be a psychologist, the same ‘you’ as you have always been?”
Before you read any further, think about how you would answer.
My gut reaction was “no.” I could think of endless ways in which I was a different person. I was more mature. More knowledgeable. More independent and less anxious. I had traveled and lived alone; made friends and fallen in love.
In our culture of constant self-improvement, who wants to stay the same?
To my surprise, my supervisor answered her own question with enthusiasm. “Of course you are! You are always ‘you.’”
I listened to her explanation and nodded along hesitantly as if I understood. But I didn’t, and I wouldn’t for a long time.
I returned to this question more recently as part of some ongoing education I was completing.
This time, I was introduced to the idea of myself as a “container.1” All the ways that I could describe or define myself are contained within the container that is ‘me.’
Imagine yourself as a large bookshelf overflowing with books. Are you the shelf, or the books?
How about a chess game? Are you the pieces, or the game board?
There are endless metaphors for this idea.
What comes to mind when asked, “Who are you?”
I might say I am a psychologist, a mother, a woman. I am smart and kind and love animals. I am messy and easily distracted.
This is the story that I tell about myself. The human mind loves stories, it is how we make sense of ourselves and the world.
But do not mistake the story for who you are. If you are the shelf, then the story is the books. I have books that describe different eras of my development. Books that describe successes and others for failures. I have books that represent the different ways that I have presented myself to the outside world; a tom-boy, a professional, a tired mom with a messy bun. I have a doctorate and a nose ring. We all have endless books that describe the many facets of who we perceive ourselves to be.
We can also use this concept to practice a different relationship with our thoughts and feelings.
It makes me think of the lovely quote by Pema Chödrön, a Buddhist teacher and ordained nun. She states, “You are the sky. Everything else- it’s just the weather.”
Our thoughts, feelings, urges and bodily sensations are constantly in motion, like clouds. Some days are clear and sunny, with hardly a cloud in sight. Others are heavy with dark and ominous clouds, threatening to drench us at any moment. Impactful, but never sticking around for long. Our thoughts and feelings are more like clouds, less like mountains. And no matter the weather, behind all that action is a steady, unmoving sky. The container for it all.
Why does this distinction matter? It matters to me, because I often see people over-identifying with the storm and forgetting that they are the sky.
You may be wondering how to use this idea in an active manner, to support you in relating differently to your own thoughts and feelings.
I will share a simple example. One of the more challenging parts of the day for me is getting the kids out the door for school in the morning. I have never been a morning person but was somehow blessed with two ridiculously early risers. As soon as their little eyes pop open, they are functioning at max energy and volume. It’s a lot.
By the time we are finally making our way out the door to the bus stop, it’s likely I am still groggy, running behind, and feeling impatient. I feel increasingly irritable as we struggle to find matching shoes and remember all the odds and ends that everyone needs to get through their day. As I feel the minutes tick by, I imagine us missing the bus and throwing the rest of the morning into disarray. As my children bicker among themselves instead of putting on their coats, occasionally I snap. I reprimand them loudly, reminding them of the time and the number of reminders I’ve already given. Now everyone feels angry and resentful as we finally make our way out the door.
Of course, the words have barely left my mouth before I begin to feel guilty. I hate raising my voice. I feel terrible for making them sad just as they leave to start their day, a bad taste left in everyone’s mouth. I wonder if I’m a bad mom, an impatient person.
But am I always impatient? All the time and in every place?
Am I consistently irritable?
Do I always feel like a bad mom? Or are there times I feel just the opposite?
If you caught me on an evening when I am reading endless bedtime stories, I might say I’m pretty patient and loving. Actually, I feel patient with my kids the majority of the time.
This line of questioning might help me realize that instead of an impatient person, I am a person who sometimes feels impatient.
I am me, and impatience is something I experience.
And when I think about it like that, it feels much more manageable.
It’s clear to me now that my graduate school self was much more attached to the story that I had of myself, which is why I struggled to identify that steadier, omnipresent sense of self that has always been me.
I prefer this perspective with myself; the one where I can observe my internal experiences from a calm and steady place. When I am less attached to a story about myself, it allows me to be more accepting and understanding of all the versions of myself that may arise.
For example, one might have a self-story that they are a hard-working person. But what happens when that person is waylaid by grief or illness, and experiences weeks where hard work is not as easy? I would encourage that person to notice that they are not hard-working right now, in this context, but that means nothing about who they are at their core.
Mindfulness and meditation practice help to strengthen this perspective-taking ability. If you are like me, and not one to sit for intentional meditation, rest assured that you can still practice this skill.
In a moment of challenging or confusing thoughts and feelings, try the following:
Pause and take a moment to identify the thoughts and feelings that are bothering you.
Ex: I overslept and was late to a meeting. I am so lazy and irresponsible. I feel embarrassed.
Notice that there is a ‘you’ that is noticing these thoughts. Rephrase them using the structure “I am having the thought that….”
Ex: I am having the thought that I am lazy and irresponsible. I am having the feeling of embarrassment.
Ask yourself questions to broaden your perspective further. Are you always irresponsible at work? Can you identify times when you are more irresponsible and times that you are less?
If someone was watching you on video throughout your work day, how would they describe you? Can you notice that you engage in behaviors that you might label “responsible” as well?
Practice getting more specific with your self-descriptions by including context, like When _____________, I feel/think ___________.
Ex. Instead of “I’m irresponsible”, try “When I oversleep, I feel irresponsible.”
Try these exercises with more positive self-evaluations as well.
(This exercise is adapted from the book, A Liberated Mind, by Psychologist Steven Hayes.)
The intention is not that you will feel immediately relieved of all negative feelings about yourself in this moment. The goal is to increase space between you and the story, to help you hold it more lightly and consider how accurate it really is.
By strengthening this skill, you will also find it easier to apply the other powerful strategies that I have discussed in this newsletter, including acceptance and self-compassion.
I’ve attempted to make this abstract idea more practical, at the risk of watering it down too much to be helpful. I would love to hear feedback on how digestible this concept feels for you. Is this a new or different way of relating to yourself and your internal experiences? How effective are the exercises in helping you cultivate this awareness? What questions do you have?
In other news, this week I surpassed my goal to reach 100 subscribers to Dr. Amber_Writes! I am so excited that my writing is continuing to reach a broader audience. More so than the number of subscribers, I am so appreciative of the comments and engagement that readers provide. Thank you so much for being here!
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Disclosure: Dr. Amber_Writes is a newsletter designed to be informational, entertaining, and engaging. It is not therapy. Following this newsletter does not establish a therapeutic relationship with me. Dr. Amber_Writes, and other written communication by Amber Groomes on Substack, is not a substitute for treatment, diagnosis, or consultation with a licensed mental health professional. I assume no liability for any action taken in reliance on my writing here at Dr. Amber_Writes.
This article describes a concept known as “Self as Context” from the therapeutic paradigm of Acceptance and Committment Therapy (ACT). To learn more about ACT, a great place to start is The Happiness Trap: How To Stop Struggling and Start Living by Russ Harris
Love this Amber. I always had a sense of my self being the same all the way through my life, though definitely getting fine tuned as I learn more! 💛
I love the concept of 'self-as-a-context,' and I often discuss it with the clients/patients I work with. However, the fusion with your different weather states is such an automatic thing we do!