Who am I, anyway?

I am . . . ?

We gain a great deal of sense of identity from the security we garner from our parents and the family we grew up in. At least, those of us who grew up in a family do. I don't know how it works for those who didn't grow up in a family. I can't really address that subject because I don't know.

So I have been struggling over the past year, really struggling because I've had to try to redefine myself as I've had to redefine my family. I've discovered that my family was not what I thought it was. My parents were not who I thought they were. I've become so disillusioned.

The truth is that they probably didn't really change. They've probably always been just who they are now. Or maybe my parents are different now because they are elderly, which does make sense (so maybe I should cut them some slack?). I don't know. Maybe my eyes are opened now and I see things for what they have really been all along. I know that I've put most of my family up on a pedestal my entire life, and I'm seeing things without rose colored glasses for the first time. I'm seeing things from a realistic perspective now.

It frustrates me.

I have to figure out not just who they are, but who I am. It isn't just that they look different from this perspective, but I do too. I understand that if I see them with all their flaws more clearly, mine are more evident as well. I'm not blind to all that. All that is painfully obvious to me. I spend too much time inside my own head, trying to figure out where and how I fit in this new world I've discovered.

I still haven't figured it out.

Let me know if you have any clues.