After Survival Mode

Who you are now? What parts of your identity withstood the circumstances that made you.. not you? Take on this challenge to read about surviving survival mode and how to discover who you are now.

That’s what she said.

We were mid-conversation about my newly discovered joy of comedy clubs against my natural tendency to recluse and be reserved.

“You should spend less time being smart.”

I didn’t think much of it in the moment. I knew it was her way of encouraging me to get out and do more.

But I’ve had that my entire life. People have always wanted me to be out, explore, connect. Be noisy, on the scene, in the mix, and involved in all the things. It was never my thing, but these dang, super strong, extroverted tendencies confuse people every time.

If I’m being honest, they’ve gotten me more than a time or two also. Because here’s the thing about identity: it’s hard.

It’s like you walk your entire life deciding who you are, who you’re not, striving for who you want to be, and from nowhere you, you have to deal with who you’ve defaulted to be.

Let’s talk about your survival self

Identity is a large, complex thing. No way I can capture it in one post. Wouldn’t try. So please don’t see this as a complete dialogue on my thoughts about identity. There aren’t enough podcast mics, but this blog still serves its purpose.

I was forced into the extroverted life growing up with brothers who always had company and needed a fourth person to round out all of their games. Little did I know that would be training for when I would have to participate in corporate functions that I held no interest in. Sitting at dinner tables full of fake laughter and even unhealthier connections as we all acted like we were one big “happy” family. And perhaps they were, but I would never claim that. The business world as an entrepreneur doesn’t feel any different.

You’re constantly toggling between “Is this person actually genuine?” or “Can they hurry up and get to the pitch so I can tell them no?” And don’t even get me started on the amount of eye-rolling I’ve done at these academic conferences. It’s not about the work, the contributions to the field, or the value. Folks are happy to be seen. They feel important, and if you find the few that actually like what they’re talking about, good for them.

What she didn’t know is that I never intentionally negotiated joy out of my identity. All she saw was “smart.” I saw a gap where pain no longer existed, but joy hadn’t fully found a seat.

I mulled over the statement a while because it hit the ear of my perspective in layers.

What makes her think that I spend time being smart?

Is there some form of joy, or her perception of me, that insinuates that I cannot, or do not, coexist with intelligence and joy?

Her statement assumes I don’t find joy in intentional and intellectual thought, and that simultaneously, I should not enjoy this.

Does she realize that she’s directing me to be less of who I actually am? Does she know who I am?

And that’s where the thought took an entirely different turn. There’s no way I could blame her. She walked in on season three of my life, after the show crashed and burned down and an entirely new series had to be built. How could she have known that her statement landed in the deep sea of a past not far removed?

She didn’t know, but I knew all too well. Hardship made me just that; hard. I was guarded, skeptical, unsure, and deeply distrusting. Communicatively, I was direct. Straight-to-the-point. No time for folly, frolicking, or anything similar to small talk. It was gross and disingenuous. I was completely disconnected from my present. There was no time for joy. Nothing was funny; everything was heavy, and I was too busy looking back, watching my own shoulder to look ahead, or appreciate the present.

My survival identity was the protective shell of who I had become while trying to navigate life, heal pains I didn’t cause while trying to outlast dangers that were real and imagined, and just basically exist.

It was the decisions I had to make, not the ones I chose. It was the woman I had to be, not the one I desired. It was the life I was forced to live while being told to be grateful for having a life. Limited everywhere: support, attention, resources, financial assistance, emotional relief, rest, community, answers. The list continues, and so did their compound effect on me.

It’s who you’ve become after life has turned you every way but loose. It’s your best attempt at strength and courage to get to the next moment. Details only matter when they threaten safety, or at least, that’s how it was for me.

Now I know we love a good triumph story. Now isn’t really the time to ponder who you want to be after the storm.

Take a moment to consider who you’ve become because of the storm.

How did it make you see the world? What changed in you? What’s shifted in your sense of self? What do you do now that you haven’t always done? How did trauma shape you?

Here’s where I get to insert my unpopular opinion before you dig too deep. All of who you’ve become isn’t bad. Demonize the situation, not the person looking back at you in the mirror. Hopefully, you’ve learned from being in survival mode, and that’s wisdom that gets to go with you. Hopefully, you’ve owned up to the part you played in your situation, and that’s accountability. See, you’re already better than before, and this is just a start. Be sure to take your introspection objectively.

When was the last time you had someone try to tell you who you are, or who you should be?

I didn’t think this casual encounter would be the tipping point of the iceberg that would bring this conversation to you, but alas, here we are.

Let’s be clear, I don’t lack laughter. I just hadn’t fully embraced the full expression of unmerited joy in my life post-survival mode. That’s a totally different experience. What does it look like when the bird finally gets freed from the cage? No one ever considered where they should fly first, or more, when they would attempt to discover the strength of their wings.

She met me in a state of exploration. I was the little birdie discovering what the feel of new grass under my feet felt like. But I was happy that my feet were on the ground and I was finding laughter in new ways.

So, seriously, think about it. Have you casually accepted a narrative about yourself that contradicts what you already believe about you? Are you politely agreeing to a life or aspect of your identity that deep down you don’t agree with? Are you caught between shedding your survival-mode identity and rediscovering who you actually are?

Identity is layered. We talk about identities often as though we are one thing or another, and we fail to realize that we don’t exist in a vacuum. Roles require us to be flexible; jobs redefine what we do with our time. Entertainment shapes our interests and interactions, but in all of that exchange, the core of your identity was never negotiable. That’s for you to decide.

Job roles may change. Life seasons and demands may shift. But there are some parts of you that are simply who you are. And no matter how hard life was or has gotten, there’s still a “you” that exists beneath the surface of the rubbish. Survival mode does a good job of hiding you from you.

Take a few moments to make a decision. Who are you?

More importantly, who are you now? What do you like about yourself? What do you want more of? What would you change? What needs to stay? What needs to go?

I know it feels less directional, but that’s intentional. You’ve read this far to be redirected to sit with the hardest person in the world to learn, know, and accept: yourself. It may feel elementary, but most people can’t answer these questions. Don’t be one of them.

Answer authentically. Change accordingly.

This is deeply personal, so know that my comment section is safe, but so are my DMs. I read every single one.