What Is Your Identity Founded On?

For a long time, I considered “Failure” my middle name. I lived, breathed, and experienced failure nearly daily. I set goals, SMART goals, consistently and well. I started strong, but the results were never what I imagined. Failure was part of my identity.

There are many reasons that my results didn’t live up to my vision. Usually, the vision was too big, too grand. Other times, my bipolar disorder got in the way.

Regardless of the reasons, failure became my identity. Until it suddenly didn’t.

At one of my lowest points, a girlfriend stepped in and helped me find a new job that paid more than I was already making — enough more that I could finally keep my lights on and water running.

With the new job, I suddenly started experiencing success. My toddler was potty-trained. I was handling my money and even beginning to make headway on paying off loans. I was doing well in my new role, hitting my numbers every month and taking on additional responsibilities.

I founded my new identity on my career results.

My sense of identity reshaped itself. I was ambitious, motivated, and I slayed every career-challenge in front of me. I consistently hit numbers and results and watched my income reflect these new results.

No longer based on failure, I founded my new identity on my career results.

Guess what happened when I took a step back from my career and quit my day job? I had no mission, no projects, no metrics against which to measure my success.

I struggled, and then I focused on losing weight. “Let’s take three months, do what I can, and then I’ll focus on getting back into a career.” I figured three months would be enough to establish a new routine and get healthy.

Data points don’t tell me who I am.

It worked, too. I was going to the gym twice a day for two hours at a time. I dropped 20 pounds on the scale in the first six weeks, and then I stalled out as the muscle gain kicked in. I fell from a size 22 down to a size 16.

My results were awesome. I was proud of myself. It was exhausting, stressful, and time-consuming, but at least I saw results.

Until I burned out — and this burnout completely side-lined me. I stopped going to the gym twice a day, and then it became a challenge to go most days until I finally stopped going altogether.

It was exhausting, stressful, and time-consuming, but at least I saw results.

The burnout transitioned into a severe depression, or maybe the frenzied activity was a cover for a years-long, severe depression; I’m still not sure which came first. Regardless, I found myself on my couch, unable to do anything but knit.

I turned out projects at a fantastic rate while the dishes stacked up in the kitchen and piles of laundry rotted in hampers. My results were now in my projects.

I was still successful at something, and knitting became my identity. Producing knitting results centered this new identity shift.

I have distance between failure, success, and who I am now, and it feels great. I can make a mistake and acknowledge it as such.

Finally, I was diagnosed with depression. Making my way through depression classes, anxiety classes, CBT, DBT, and more forced me to confront reality: My results are not my identity.

Realizing this freed me from pressure and perfectionism, and left me floundering in uncertainty. If I’m not my results, then who am I?

My church told me my identity is centered on Christ. Accepting that was true, it left a lot of room for all the other components of my identity.

For me, this is where journaling and therapy combined to help me close the gaps. I remembered that I am a wife and a mother. I am a friend. I enjoy reading, writing, and knitting. I like crisp, dark mornings, and rainy days. I’m an admitted dark-chocolate-addict, and I love my lattes.

If I’m not my results, then who am I?

Through my faith, I discovered and affirmed that I am an encourager. I am designed to help people, to be a sounding board. Understanding this core point helped me find a purpose for my life: mental health outreach and advocacy.

As I started to work in my purpose, I’ve found that I’m not concerned about my results. I still take weekly measurements of progress against goals and track metrics, but those data points don’t tell me who I am.

I have distance between failure, success, and who I am now, and it feels great. I can make a mistake and acknowledge it as such. I can fall short on a goal and appreciate what I accomplished. I can slay a task and feel satisfaction in it without false humility or excessive pride.

My results are not my identity. Neither are yours.

What’s one way you identify yourself? Is it accurate?