Memories, Awards, and Identity

In our basement we have a big plastic rubbermaid tub that has followed me around through at least 6 moves. It's labeled "Memories."

A few weeks ago I decided it was time to pull it out, crack it open, and show the kids who I was when I was their age. I spent probably 2 hours sorting through elementary school report cards, some of my old artwork, my cap and gown from graduation, etc. So much I didn't even remember. 

Looking through the yearbooks I saw faces, and remembered experiences I had forgotten about. Some good. Some painful- like remembering the names of the kids who bullied me in 6th grade.

And then there were the awards. Pulling out all of the medals, plaques, and certificates of achievement... well, it was kind of strange. Part of me was feeling nostalgic about some of the good old days. Part of me was proud- "Look kids, I was awesome!" Part of me was wondering what, if anything, I should do with all this... stuff. Throw it away? I mean, its not cool to display a medal you received 20 years ago for a second place finish in the long jump.

And honestly, I was also thinking, "None of this really mattered, did it?" But I had to stop that short.

No, the fabric or wood or metal objects don't matter, and they would probably be fine to get rid of. But the experience did matter. It was part of making me who I am today. I remember the hard training- working to improve my distances and speed. I remember long hours of painting and drawing, learning the skills and improving my work. And people noticed.

Honestly, it wasn't about the specific awards for me. It's actually hard for me to accept an award–or even a compliment. But I did enjoy achieving success. I liked going fast, and I liked creating beauty. I enjoyed a level of domination (in a young, hormonal teenager sense), or knowing I was good at something.

And somewhere deep inside I felt like I needed to prove something. Prove that I was worth noticing. Prove that I had what it took to succeed. 

As kids, we were all trying to figure out who we were. We used the feedback of others to help us for our identity. Initially that might be the identity of a "runner" or "artist" but on a deeper level those experiences told me that I was a competitor and a creative. 

Some of the identities that we learned were not healthy. As I said earlier, I was picked on in middle school- and I came to believe I was an outsider. In addition to that, I must stop and ask the question- why was I so driven to achieve? Why did I need to prove anything? Maybe one of the identities I believed was that I must perform for the affirmation I needed, and wasn't worthy of it otherwise.

I am generally aware of the fact that along with the script of a creative and competitor, I also carry the outsider and unworthy performer script in my adulthood. 

Some of those identities need to be recaptured. Others need to be rewritten.

And that is the power of the gospel. Recapturing that which was intended and lost, and rewriting that which was never intended at all. 

At the end of the day, I didn't throw away the medals and ribbons. They went back into the tub to be rediscovered in another decade or so.

What parts of yourself have you let go that you'd like to reclaim? What identities have you long held and would like to re-write?

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Cody Buriff, Director of Resource Initiatives