I am complicated and far from perfect. People think they understand me, but that is not true because I don’t understand myself either. My inner world is in chaos and turmoil. Wherever I look, things don’t seem right, and I constantly curse myself, feeling like a failure, wondering if I’m going to make it and if I am worthy of the life I have.
People say they know me and what goes on in my life. But that is not true because I don’t know the real me either. Every morning, I look at myself in the mirror, studying my own reflection, wanting to know who I truly am. Looking at myself, I wonder if people want to know my secrets or if they want to uncover the truths that elude my conscious mind. I wonder how the people who claim to know me perceive me. Do they see me as an honest person or a cunning deceiver? Or is that how I perceive myself? I always wonder, wanting to understand who I really am.
People see me as a confident person—someone with life figured out. But that is not true, because deep down, I am a vulnerable woman, and my inner world confirms that. It keeps telling me that I am no good and that I am not destined for greatness. The inner voice keeps whispering these words like a mantra, and I even believe it. Well, why not? Looking at myself, it’s not hard to agree with that inner voice. I have so much I want to achieve but lack the courage to do so. Many disappointments are attached to me, and I can’t even finish what I have started working on, even if I want to. Yet people don’t know about the turmoil within me; they see me as a confident person.
People see me as courageous, someone strong enough to brave the storms. But that is not true because I am weak and a coward. I wear a mask like everyone else. We wear polished masks to shield our vulnerability. But beneath the façade, do we know who we really are? What fears, dreams, and regrets lie hidden? I, too, wear that mask—the professional mask at work, the cheerful mask with friends, the stoic mask during grief. These layers of identity overlap, sometimes clashing together, and I wonder if people who see me as courageous can see through them and me to glimpse the raw, unfiltered self in the world within me. I want to be a winner and brave those storms, but I don’t know how to do that yet.
I have a wall surrounding me. It is hard to penetrate and break because I am vulnerable, and I don’t want to get hurt. Perception is the key to understanding me for who I am. People see me through the prism of their experiences, biases, and cultural lenses. The same face could evoke admiration, indifference, or disdain. My inner world knows and understands that, and that is why I have a wall surrounding me to protect myself, for I have learned from experience and from the stories I have heard from friends. Maybe that is why the inner voice keeps telling me fearful things to keep me grounded. To stop me from reflecting on my fragility, childhood memories, heartaches, and dreams, because the world within me is a universe of complexities.
I am a real person with a lot going on. No matter what I say, deep down, I know the truth that I don’t want people to know. I have secrets like everyone else, and maybe that’s why self-perception echoes within me in the form of an inner voice, scrutinising my achievements, my failures, and my scars. The inner critic whispers, “Not enough” or “Not worthy,” yet there are moments when I feel whole. In those fragments, I feel like I know my true self without judgment. In those moments, I also wonder if others see me as I see myself. Do they notice my resilience and kindness? Or do they see my flaws, the chipped edges, or the broken reflections? Or perhaps, like me, people are too busy adjusting their own masks to truly see me for who I am.
Identity—what is my identity? The inner critic keeps asking me. Identity weaves threads through time, and I wonder if the ancestral blood of my grandmothers or the wanderlust of distant kin echoes through me. The inner voice also questions if I have my mother’s resilience or if I am just a nobody with no clear identity of my own. However, I have learned to tune out the inner voice that tells me how unworthy I am, despite how difficult it is. Listening to the inner critic is unhealthy and brings with it depression and anxiety.
As a person, I am an enigmatic force. I have passion and ambitions. I have plans and ideas of what I want, and every morning when I look at myself in the mirror, I see resilience, vulnerability, and the promise of what’s to come. I see myself for who I truly am. I find fragments of truth, glimpses of self, and the ever-shifting contours of perception. I have come to accept that my colourful identity, which I have struggled to understand for so long, is shaped by an interplay of light and shadow, right and wrong, good and bad. By accepting and embracing my complexity, I have come to appreciate the beauty of being human.
About the Contributor
Denyse Ishimwe is a 25-year-old woman who is passionate about art in general. All genres of art fascinate and interest her. She hopes that her writings will be able to change people’s lives. When she is not writing, you will find her working on her art as she likes to explore new art forms. Currently, she is experimenting with yarn in making artworks inspired by “Nierika Artâ€.
