Not Knowing Who I Am – Figuring Out Why I Am the Way I Am

I don’t know where this came from, but I’ve always been shy and timid.

I’m not sure if it’s because I grew up in a family where kids weren’t really allowed to speak up. At social events—if there even were any—the kids were always separated from the adults. We weren’t allowed to listen to adult conversations, interrupt them, or ask too many questions. And when I did ask questions, they weren’t always answered.

I remember my dad used to say, “Look it up.”

He was always reading and learning, but he wasn’t the one who helped me learn.

That was discouraging. And back then, we didn’t have the internet—just encyclopedias. Information wasn’t easy to access, and I struggled with focusing when reading. I was more logical and hands-on. That made learning even harder.

In high school, I didn’t attend much. I felt socially awkward.

I didn’t have many friends, and my parents didn’t really let me socialize anyway.

So I wasn’t taught how to form relationships—not real ones.

I felt abandoned most of the time—not because my parents didn’t care, but because they were busy, distracted, and dealing with their own issues. I was never really allowed to just be a kid.

So I used my imagination.

Especially with my Barbies.

I created a whole world—a make-believe place where I pictured what a perfect life might look like. I escaped into that.

But when I finally stepped into the real world—I wasn’t ready.

Everything shocked me. Everything hurt. Everything was too much.

Good things. Bad things. All of it felt traumatic.

I didn’t know how to handle anything because it was all so new.

So I coped the only way I knew how: by blending in. By trying to create a personality that wasn’t really mine.

I made up an imaginary version of myself.

An identity I thought I was supposed to be.

And I lost track of who I really was.

The truth is—I don’t know how to be around people.

I don’t know what to say. I don’t even know how to be.

Even after sobriety, it’s been hard to build friendships.

Because I don’t know who I’m showing them.

That creates anxiety, depression, and feelings of unworthiness.

But here’s something I just realized:

I was using drugs and alcohol for so long that the version of me people saw—that became my personality.

The imaginary, under-the-influence, numbed-out version of myself.

That was who I thought I was.

So now, being sober—it’s like being born again.

It’s like experiencing the world completely raw, with no filter, no medication, and no performance.

And it’s overwhelming.

So I tend to withdraw.

I’d rather sit back and listen to others than talk about myself.

Not because I don’t care—because I’m scared of being misunderstood, judged, or told what to do.

I just want to be my own personality.

Not one shaped by others.

I feel like I’ve been Play-Doh my whole life.

Always being molded by whoever was around me.

Whoever was in control.

Whoever I thought I needed to become to survive.

But now I’ve forgotten what shape I was even supposed to be.

So I’m slowly forming again—reshaping myself.

This time… into who I was always meant to be.

And I want to let it harden. Let it stick.

Let it be me—finally.

And you know what?

Writing helps.

When I record my voice or write it all out, I can actually see what I’m trying to say.

I’m not being judged in those moments.

I’m just being honest.