Identity Mirrors Sometime ago, my teacher gave me an unforgettable task. It was simple yet daunting; a question, yet more of a declaration. It’s the kind of statement that can only come up in life’s most meaningful conversations. It was a Friday afternoon and I was sitting beside my adviser and Economics teacher in the chapel’s upper floor, relaying my problems in school. I told her that one of my best friends was leaving and that I felt really forlorn about it. What kind of friend wouldn’t? She was going to Canada—the same girl girl who taught me how to sing and play the guitar, the girl who annoyed me the most yet inspired me in doing so many great things. The same girl whom I can talk just about anything under the sun (even if it’s about a small pebble on the road) and still have fun--was slowly slipping away. A million doubts and fears dominated my mind as I ask her: How come those people who matter always find a way to leave me? This is one of those rhetorical questions that kept me from thinking life is good. I then told her that everything about me was influenced by others. That every single thing there is to know about me was just a “compilations” from the people I’ve met. My habit of reading came from my 5th grade friend, Johan, who loved to borrow books from the library—but she’s now in Camarines Sur. My determination in studying was influenced by my 6th grade friend, AC, who is currently ranked 1 in our class. My passion for singing and playing the guitar came from Darlynne, the girl leaving for Canada. I couldn’t imagine how life would be like if I never met those people. Will I still be me or would I turn to a different person? I wasn’t even sure if I did have an identity or if I was just mirroring what I have seen in my friends. After throwing all those tantrums to my teacher, she asked me this: “So who do you think is the real Hazel Encarnado? The one who’s not influenced by others? Once Darlynne is gone, will you be the same person you are or will you be an empty student going by the routine of everyday life?” I think my reply involved giving her an impassive face. The answer to such a formidable question may seem ubiquitous yet, upon searching my mind, I have found no satisfactory answer. “My challenge for you is to find who you are with or without the friends you’ve come to know.” Up until now, her words still ring in my ears with the same ambivalent effect. Is it possible for me to do that? Am I really more than just an analytical type of “paper” that is a mere collection of what other people already have? Or am I an independent person with contributions for building my own personality? With those questions in mind, my senior year was set out before my eyes adorned in bright lights, built upon hidden pavements and designed like a deceptive labyrinth whereas a turn can lead either to fatality or success.
For the next 3 weeks, I did my best to observe the way I treat others, the way I answer in class, the way I study for an exam, the way I talk to my parents and the way I deal with high school dramas like love and friendships alike. In some circumstances, I noticed that I make vituperative remarks in the heat of a conversation—of which I immediately regret. I replay those moments in my head and come up with numerous ways of how I could have said something more appropriate. Then in class, I realized I was suffering from the “shut-out” syndrome. Sure, I pass the exams, I answer the teacher’s questions and I do my assignments— but at the end of the day, I can’t remember exactly what my teacher talked about. Sometimes it’s about the lesson; sometimes it’s just a random story about a dog or a college professor they couldn’t forget. Either way, I only recall laughing along with my seatmate about an invigorating subject. So far, I thought, the “real Hazel” was not turning to a promising person. On the turn of events, my progress for the pursuit of a so-called true “identity” changed. Setting aside vanity and pride, I have discovered that I’m a good person after all. I have observed this when we were in the library and our English teacher was not present. She tasked us to browse books, magazines and vertical files for information which we might need for our research papers. My partner was absent so I worked alone. After about half an hour, I was contented with the resources and facts I have found. I noticed that half of my classmates were agitated. Someone was sleeping, another was looking at pictures of beaches, two were flirting, six were actually doing research, and the rest had no idea where to start. Since the library was practically my second home, I closed my own notebook and approached one of my confused classmates. Their topic was about cosmetic surgery and they still had no lead so far. After a minute, I came back to them holding a book dog-eared to a page entitled “Cosmetics”. They thanked me afterwards and proceeded to reading the content of the book. I did the same thing for the rest of the period with my other classmates. And I did it all by myself—my actions were not influenced by the speech or command of another person. Even though I didn’t really gain anything that can serve as help for my own research paper, I didn’t feel like I wasted my time. It actually felt good to be of assistance to others. That was when I realized that the “real Hazel” is naturally helpful if she knows that she can do something for someone. Another event supported my teacher’s challenge. This happened when I was in my classmate’s house while we were studying in Math for the Quarterly Exams. As expected, review sessions with friends always turn to random conversations and small talks. At first, we were talking about the formula for the Mean Deviation of an ungrouped data, and the next thing I knew, we were ranting about college and courses. I told her that everyone wanted me to take Medicine but I couldn’t imagine myself wearing a white uniform for 10 years reading thick medicinal books after one another. Sure, I said when she gave me a “you have got to be kidding me you’re so diligent with your studies” look, I do study—but I’m not really a super genius like AC
who does not need to pull out an all-nighters to perfect an exam. My friend just smiled at me and said, “You know what’s so good about you? You like to finish things as soon as possible. You like getting things done early because you hate cramming.” And I knew it was true. I did hate procrastinating over a project, an assignment or a test. As much as possible, I want it all done, passed and reviewed in record time. When I try think of someone who had influenced me to act that way —I could not think of any name at all. It was all on my own doing. Three weeks of doing the same critical observations on how I can be independent of other people’s influence gave way to a funny yet self-satisfactory epiphany. My teacher never really gave me a “challenge”. What she was asking me to look for has been there all along—I was simply ignorant of it. She wanted me to realize that sometimes we tend to think we’re strangers to our own identities; when in truth, we are the only ones who can grasp ourselves fully. My friends, though they kept on leaving me behind, were the “bright lights” on my road to fulfillment. As one light goes off, another goes on—and this process will keep repeating until the only light shining is the one coming from me. That’s life, my teacher had said, people come and go and you have to learn how to be by yourself because in the end, we are all alone. We just choose people we can get alone with. I have looked at the years when my friends had come and gone as figments of the darkness of life. Turns out, a bigger picture lies ahead—and I am the one and only master artist.
- Hazel Encarnado
