Identity: it's such a funny thing.
When I was around seven years old, I was terrified that as I got older and turned into more of adult-type person, I would forget who I was. So I got a stack of magazines, flipped through them, and cut out all the pictures of things that I liked. I stored these in a special box, and told myself I would go back and look at them every time I felt like I was losing who I was.
Yes, this seems kind of silly. How could I forget who I was? And how could a little box of puppy pictures cut out of dog food ads make me remember my identity? And why was a seven year old so concerned with losing herself?
Well, first of all, because I had just been told we were moving, packed up my entire life, said goodbye to my friends and everything I knew, and moved to a new country. Again.
I needed that little box. Because everything was changing.
I was changing.
And I needed to know who I was.
The future was scary enough, and I needed to know that at least I would stay the same. Maybe everything else around me would change, and maybe I would have absolutely no say in what my life looks like, but I could be in charge of who I am.
And little seven-year-old me needed that.
I looked through that little box a lot throughout the years, and it began to include more and more pieces of me: ticket stubs, report cards, boarding passes; pictures, notes, memories of my adventures and some of the hardest times of my life.
A little box of me.
I couldn’t stand the idea of losing who I am, or my identity getting lost in all the shuffle, or forgetting all the small pieces that built the foundation of who I am today.
My name is Megan, and I am a TCK.
I grew up traveling the world, living mostly in Russia and Central Asia. A U.S. citizen, I moved back to America when I was sixteen. I now live in San Diego, CA, and am finishing up at university. I love elephants, the beach, and I drink way too much caffeine.
On the outside, I look like an average American girl, but on the inside I still wrestle with some of the issues that a childhood of uncertainty has left me with. I am currently now on my third box stuffed with memories, and my friends all make fun of me for keeping the smallest sentimental items. But in about fifty years, I am going to have a wonderful time looking through all my boxes of me and remembering this crazy life of mine.
