Cheerful/Identity Crisis

I started taking a pottery class recently. It's something that I've always wanted to try. Turns out, I have no natural abilities when it comes to pottery. But just like my knit and crochet projects, I like to say that my creations are full of Karen love and character.

Last night, as I was heading out of class, I exchanged "byes" with another lady. Suddenly, she said, "You are always so cheerful. You're always smiling. And you don't just smile. Your whole face smiles."This was so surprising for me to hear. Honestly, this was something that I often heard pre-September 7. But it shocked me to hear this yesterday because the Karen of today feels so different from the pre-September 7 Karen.

I feel as though I'm going through a bit of an identity crisis. Naturally, I've had to come to terms with my new identity as a widow, and my new identity as a single person. I've been doing much better with that within myself. It's when I'm in public that things get tricky. When I meet new people, I often feel myself putting up a wall to distance myself. Not because I want to. More because, I don't know how to have small talk anymore. After you talk about the weather and shoes, people want to know more. So there is always a debate that goes on in my head. Do I just come out and say, "well, I'm a new widow and I'm going through a bit of a transition period right now." I mean, that's who I am right now. Just like I'm Taiwanese-American. Usually, I don't. It makes me feel too vulnerable, as though I'm placing a target on my forehead. Usually, I play the How-long-can-I-keep-this-conversation-going-before-revealing-my-true-identity-game. There are two possible outcomes. The first, is that my identity is eventually revealed, and I feel like a Debbie-Downer for sobering up a pleasant conversation. The second, is that my widow status is never revealed, and then I'm left feeling a bit fake.

A couple Sundays ago, my pastor told a story about teaching English to a group in China. He was teaching them that the answer to "How are you?" is always "fine." People don't really want to know how you're doing. They want to hear that you're fine. It's sad. But isn't this so true? It is also why I tend to play my game.

When I'm introduced to someone by a friend, my mind always starts to whirl. Were they told about me? Were they not told about me? Generally, all that is needed is, "I was sorry to hear about your husband." and I can have a pretty normal conversation. They know, and I didn't have to tell them. I know they know, and now we can move on.

There is another part of my identity crisis. This one has been even trickier for me. I haven't always been good at it, but I've always had the heart to help people, encourage them, and inspire them. It was very much a part of who I was. These days, there is a huge population of people that make me feel helpless. They are the people who have just been diagnosed with something, and the family members who love them. Each time, I hear that someone has been affected by something like cancer, I want to give them a big bear hug. I want to tell them to have faith. I want to tell them to be strong and fight. Too often, I end up shrinking away, because the truth is that I feel like I have a little black rain cloud over my head. How do I give people hope when my dear husband who was so positive, so strong in his faith, and fought with all of his might is not here to tell about it? I feel like I'm just a constant and unwanted reminder of what can happen. In fact, I have experienced people stepping away since Joe died. I don't blame them. But it only reinforces this feeling that I have.

Despite this war in my heart and mind, I feel that I'm doing quite well these days. I always tell people that I'm probably doing worse than people think but better than they imagine.

I leave you with a recent Dear Abby column that touched my heart.

DEAR ABBY: I am a 12-year-old freshman at an all-girls school. Prior to this I was in the public school system. Today I was thinking about my experiences in both systems of schools, which inspired me to write the following poem. You can print it if you like.
Perhaps it will strike a chord with educators and students. Maybe it won't. But I wanted to get my feelings out on this subject and help to stop unfair judgment. -- LEALIA XIONG, GUILFORD, CONN.

DEAR LEALIA: I'm pleased to share your poem and the important message it so succinctly conveys. You have tremendous insight for one so young, and talent as well.

DON'T JUDGE
Don't judge people you hardly know.

You don't know what their day has been like.

You don't know what their life has been like.

Don't judge.

Don't judge someone who seems

As if she's overreacting.

You don't know if she's lost someone

She loved dearly

Or if her parents are getting a divorce

Or fighting over nothing.

Don't judge.

Don't judge someone who's different.

He's probably one of the nicest people you'll
know.

Or the funniest.

Or the smartest.

Take the time to get to know people.

Walk with them.

Run with them.

Share their triumphs and their sorrows.

Maybe they don't dance through life
As you thought.

Don't judge.