When I wrote about my struggle with my weight, the thing that surprised me most was when I called myself a rugby player. I’ve never done that before, despite playing the game for 10 years. I’ve also never explicitly thought about my identity, always a vague sense of self. Reflecting on it, I realized changes to my identity evoked strong emotional reactions, often unconscious to me. Introspecting and reframing my sense of self gave me the perspective to navigate identity shifts and process emotions rather than letting them dictate my responses.
Dissecting my identity, a piece that surfaces is my nationality. The bond between a person and their country is powerful, a prerequisite for a nation’s survival. To me, nationalism is a collective pact for survival, binding people through a shared identity. While I understand the concept theoretically, I can’t relate to it emotionally. Having lived a decade of my life in three different nations, I definitely lack a sense of patriotism that others around me share. I’d always identified more with my last place of residence than with any single nation. When my family migrated to Canada, I’d say I’m Eastern European. When I migrated to the US, I’d say I’m Canadian. In this regard I identify myself as more of an immigrant than a citizen of any nation, despite being a citizen, soon a dual citizen.
A time I had to confront an identity shift was having my first born. Prior to my son being born, my identity revolved around intense, all-consuming hobbies. Subconsciously, it felt like its what gave my life purpose and joy. From three months to multi year long obsessions where
