The thing about having schizophrenia (voices in your head) is that, you have to differentiate between the other voices, the voices of people who care about you and your own inner voice, to survive.

When they say that life changes you, which part of you do they mean? Does it occur on a personality level or a character level? Which part of a person is inherent and remains, no matter what?
I only ask this because I have changed so much, I have no idea of who I am. I find myself adapting to a lot of what people tell me. When one person says that I am cool, calm and collected, I find myself taking that on yet when I get inebriated, I become loud and outgoing. Sometimes, i become small because I am in a place where I don’t want to be perceived in a certain light – when I am not comfortable and haven’t settled in yet. Other times, I find myself unable to hold words in my mouth or in my fingers. Sentences overflow, one after the other and I seem unable to stop. A lot, in those moments, seems to be buried and has finally errupted.

I am confused.

For so long, I was fighting to get what I want so that i can be the person i was in a particular circumstance. Focused and locked in to whatever I was doing. Other times, I find myself wanting to be outgoing and happy and free like a bird. The latter mainly happens when alcohol is involved or I feel like I am in a private place and I can let go of all my inhibitions and open up.
Does a place or a circumstance make a person or are you who you are no matter where or when you find yourself? I am conflicted about who I am. I’m not sure how to take the next step forward especially because parts of me that know and parts of me that know nothing are at loggerheads. I am fighting to be in control while still being ashamed of the person i am, when I am in control, the loud and outgoing person i am when I was around others – around fun.

I used to talk to myself. It was very therapeutic for me to have someone to speak to who will not judge me – or rather could not judge me. However, ever since I felt like there was a presence with me wherever I went, I became more reserved with what I was saying out loud. Now, I can barely talk to myself without feeling shame deep within. . . i’m not sure if the word is shame, I’m not sure what the word is.

Truthfully, fighting for the right to move out, I feel is not a fight of wanting to be independent but a fight of wanting to know who i am. Something that I had scheduled to take place in my 20’s but was a process interrupted, incomplete. Now, I am left to my thirties to find out who I am and I already feel like this exploration is coming a bit late in life. The fight isn’t a fight I can win by explaining this – especially to someone who is already aware of who they are. I’m not sure what grounding factors I can have to put my point across, to say that, I would like a space to explore myself, my inner worlds, my inner hells and heavens. It doesn’t seem ethical, especially not in an African household where your identity is determined by the parent who disciplines you the most. These are not things that the post-colonial African takes to mind, yet, in traditional African societies, young men and women were often given the freedom to find out who they are before the world did.

I feel it might be too late to find out who I am. The world may already have half of me in its pocket while we are struggling for the other half.
This might take a while.