Who am I?
Me without the pain.
Free.
Free at last.
Now I can live my life,
honor myself,
and never go back there again.
All I had to do
was learn how to be me.
Lost dreams.
Abandoned desires.
Confused identity—
healed by a search for truth.
The truth of who I am.
Who am I?
One of the most asked questions in history.
But the answer is steeped in pain,
conformity,
and lies.
A system that insists on telling you who you are,
for fear that your answer
might risk your freedom.
You are not your pain.
A common spiritual truth
that asks us to heal—
but quietly,
it reminds us:
our identities are not shaped
by the pain we’ve lived.
Who are you, if not the pain?
You are you.
A simple truth—
vague,
yet powerful.
You are freedom.
Joy.
Love.
You are not the chains that bound you.
You are not the pain
you tied yourself up in.
You are the way.
You are the truth.
You are the light.
Jesus did not say that solely about himself.
The statement was not made from ego.
He said that about humanity.
You are your own way.
Your own truth.
Your own light.
Nobody can take that from you—
unless you let them.
Something the system demands from us.
The loss of our inner way, truth, and light
is a heavy cross to bear
on our human journey.
We bear it with pride.
We’re proud of our struggle.
We wear the pain like a badge of honor,
frequently showing anybody
who will pay attention.
Insecurity was the consequence I lived.
It held me back
in myriad ways
that I was not aware of.
So many habits,
excuses,
reasons why not.
So much fear.
Who am I?
The answer is unknown.
It cannot be answered.
It’s a mental trap.
The answers are simplified:
I am my name.
I am my birthday.
I am my country
or the language I speak.
Superficial answers to deep questions
don’t satisfy the curious mind.
They don’t honor the depth
of the question.
The unknown future is terrifying.
The mind enjoys safety—
safety in a known, predictable reality.
The world is anything but predictable.
Keep things the same!
The voice in my mind
yells in the background.
But I cannot.
The soul yearns to be free.
I yearn to be free
in a way I never have before.
Sameness is not safety.
Conformity is not freedom.
Your name is not who you are.
I changed my name
to free myself.
I wanted to be different than I was.
I wanted to know a life I wasn’t living.
If my name is who I am,
then I can change it to something I’m not—
so that I can be somebody else.
But it doesn’t work like that.
My name is superficial.
It’s like clothing—
a temporary label
in a temporary world.
Who am I,
if not my name?
A soul.
A spirit in a human body.
Living life
in a temporary form.
I am not the things
the world told me I was.
I am more than that.
I am whoever I decide to be.
The human rules are many:
Be this and be that.
Think this and believe that.
Do this and don’t do that.
So many rules.
All changeable.
Temporary.
Subjective.
Every single one
created from fear.
None of them are true.
Not one.
Why?
Because conformity is not truth.
Conformity is the lie.
It makes you believe
you are your name.
It told you what the rules were.
And you believed them.
By believing them,
you gave up your truth.
You forgot who you were.
Still,
I silently yearned to be free.
I am not who the world told me to be.
I am infinite.
Powerful.
Worthy.
How do I live that life?
How do I become that?
How do I find freedom again?
Sit in the fear.
Don’t let it control you.
Don’t let it decide who you are.
You don’t have to conform.
You don’t have to stay still.
You’re free—
free to move
in any direction you choose.
You can take your name with you.
It won’t hurt you
if you don’t let it.
Your country,
your language,
your culture—
those can come too.
Just don’t let them trap you.
You’re more than the sum
of your parts.
You’re not your past.
You’re not your future either.
You’re something in between.
The present feels strange.
It feels off.
It’s missing something.
But what’s missing?
Truth.
The truth of who I am.
Where does that hide?
How do I find that?
It’s not in the past,
present,
or future.
It’s in a different place.
It’s buried inside of you.
You hid it there as a child—
afraid,
alone,
and curious.
You left a breadcrumb trail behind you
because you knew you’d go back.
You forgot about the crumbs
you left there that day.
They were a part of you
that you left behind.
The pain comes back
when you find them.
The memories rush in.
But they are different now.
They still hurt to touch.
They still sting to see.
But they are no longer part of you.
You became more
than the memories
could ever let you be.
You moved on.
You changed and grew.
You learned new things.
But the breadcrumbs stagnated.
They stayed—
and waited for you to come back.
You’re here now.
But what to do
with the trail you left behind?
Pick up the pieces.
Sort through them one by one.
They will tell you a story—
about who you were,
while showing you who you’re not.
Painfully,
slowly,
without remorse.
They tell a vivid tale.
When they show you what they hold,
it will break you apart.
Beyond the broken pieces
is where the truth is found.
This lonely place
holds the key you’ve been seeking.
When you find it,
you will celebrate.
Cherish the work that you did.
The truth that you found.
Life will change—
because you freed yourself to change it.
You honored who you were.
You became more
than the world told you to be.
I am not the things
the world told me I was.
I am more than that.
I am whoever I decide to be.
Who am I?
Me without the pain.
Free.
Free at last.
Now I can live my life,
honor myself,
and never go back there again.
All I had to do
was learn how to be me.
Lost dreams.
Abandoned desires.
Confused identity—
healed by a search for truth.
The truth
of who I am.
Della