Our brains are only capable of processing so much. You probably read that factoid somewhere before. Why do you think “he said, she said” arguments exist? Why do philosophers expound upon what is true? And given the almost never-ending bombardment of sensorial information we perceive, how can we rely on memory alone?
So we come up with labels. Efficiency is the name of the game! Labels are essentially a way for us to organize all the information coming at us from all ends. Some labels are fairly straightforward. “Restroom,” for example. As emotional beings, we may conjure up memories of public restrooms that then lead to feelings of relief. Or disgust. Or apprehension.
The labels we give to ourselves and the world around us, or the labels bequeathed to us, also evoke various emotions. These emotions, in turn, affect the way we think and/or behave. The circle of life indeed!
Some of the labels I’ve worn include:
-Korean
-American
-Stay-at-home-mom
-Crunchy mom
-Woman
-Wife
-Buddhist
-Catholic
-Yogi
-City girl
-Scorpio
-Actress
-Performance artist
-Storyteller
-Writer
-Teacher
-Sister
-Daughter
-Child
-Empath
-Human
In college I was told I had generalized anxiety disorder. Less than two weeks into a stressful move, I was diagnosed with adult ADHD. Most recently, the mental health community slapped the label “Borderline Personality Disorder” on my case folder. This from a therapy organization that dealt primarily with woman who had…drumroll please…Borderline Personality Disorder!
When you’re a hammer, everything starts looking like a nail.
So who am I? What am I?
Who are you?
Labels are mere tools. Simple instruments. Useful in many ways.
The individual behind the label? Infinitely more complex. Perhaps essentially unknowable thanks to our cognitive limitations. Faith may then assume a role. The light in me bows and honors the light in you.
Do I contradict myself?
Very well then I contradict myself,
(I am large, I contain multitudes.)
Give it up to Whitman. We are poetry. Mighty, mighty poetry.
H.M.K. 