allow me to introduce myself

Over the course of my job search this summer, a request frequently appeared among applications and interviews: "Tell us about yourself." I know--this is common. What I didn't know was how to best answer it. I say "best" because each time someone asked, I felt as if it was the sole chance for me to prove something. I'm still unsure of what. Alas, each answer felt distant from reality. It felt like an attempt to outdo not only other applicants but also who I have been. I say "have been" because each answer presented a different idea of myself. None actually felt like me.

At first, my focus on providing the best answer clouded the root of the problem. I chose to see nothing but feigned perfection with a plan to prove myself at a later point. In recent days, that has changed.

Quite some time has passed since my best friend started telling me that I need to recognize how great I am. Of course, they weren't the first to say so. I've listened to similar demands for years. When I say "listened to," however, I mean ignored. I won't admit to actually listening to aforementioned person, but instead I'll say that a couple days ago I ran across an essay describing similar requests. The difference? The author of that piece was requesting it of herself: she set out to discuss her accomplishments and best qualities. In doing so, she inspired me to do the same.

A simple line spoke to me. It stated that those who climb mountains rarely see the success in that.

Accomplishing that is something I often forget. Barely more than three years have passed since completing a difficult hike (read: my lungs barely handled the intense elevation increase and an elderly couple using canes passed a friend and I), but it's not something I usually list when I think of accomplishments. Why not?

The simplest answer to that is although I try to present my best self to many, I never want to sound like I'm making myself more than I am. I never want to brag about trips I've taken or experiences I've had because I know that others won't have those chances. I never want to sound selfish or self-centered. 

Now that I've stepped back, I feel that my focus on those values has diminished my view of myself. I feel that it's important to cheer myself on, support my decisions, and admire the wins and losses I have faced.

Because yes, I have climbed up a mountain, hiked through national monuments, and explored among national parks. I have visited 26 states and Washington DC (as well as lived in 3 plus DC). I have adventured in the city that sets my soul on fire and visited the setting of my second favorite movie. I have driven from the middle of the country to the west coast (in the most roundabout way) with my lifelong friend. I have published poems in books, a short story in an anthology, articles for a popular website, and this blog and others (although the blogs feel less significant). I have read thousands of books, and I plan to read thousands more. I even plan to write some of my own. A poetry chapbook is in progress and will be submitted for publication within the next month. I have a high school diploma from a place I never thought I'd escape, and I have a bachelor's degree from the first place I ever called home. I earned the former with a 4.0 GPA, including nine dual-enrollment courses, and the latter as cum laude in six semesters as a nearly full-time employee with seven different employers (over the course of those six semesters) and involvement in multiple organizations, plus a semester off-campus.

I have permanently placed words and symbols that strongly exist as part of my identity on my skin, and I have plans for more--because I want to embrace the power of showing the world who I am. I have dyed my hair red, black, purple, and blonde, and I have shaved parts of it off, experimented with various angles, and grown it out for an entire year just to cut it short. I have stood within a few yards of baby lions, faced my fear of birds and pet one (he will likely be the only one), and admired many (yet not enough) giraffes up close. I have moved myself to my new places, and I have left old places behind. I have fallen in love, felt the negativity of hatred, and bonded with strangers. I have found people whom I trust to not only accept my pansexual identity but also respect it, despite coming from a red, rural upbringing and continuing to live with closed minds never far enough away. I have learned about myself and my life, as well as how to handle both, in three years of therapy; next month, I'll return to that. I have planned the annual fundraiser for a nationally-recognized nonprofit. I have marched for DACA, rallied for gun reform, and written to my senators. I have spoken for those who can't speak up, sat in emergency rooms when nobody else would, and volunteered with organizations with causes I feel passionate about (especially Feed the Children). Recently, I have accepted a new job with a community nonprofit as an intake specialist, meaning that I will listen to people's stories and help determine how we can best support their needs.

Recognizing all of those accomplishments (and others that I'm not remembering or noting at the moment) is important. However, what feels most important is that I have tried to be a good person, especially for those whom I care about and who care about me. That's who I will always try to be most--the next time that I forget it, someone please remind me.