'I am large, I contain multitudes'

"Do I contradict myself? Very well then I contradict myself,(I am large, I contain multitudes.)" - Walt Whitman

Moving to new places always presents itself with a unique set of challenges. How will I get around? Where’s the closest grocery store? Will my cell reception work here? How much can I buy without my luggage being overweight on the way back? Okay, the last one probably only applies to me! Another challenge I often face is, upon meeting oodles of new faces every day, how do I introduce myself? In essence, who am I?

I am of the firm belief that you cannot know someone unless you have walked their life in their shoes (thank you, Atticus Finch). But, I have definitely walked my own life in my 3-4 inch black, platform boots, and I still don’t know if I know myself. When it comes to introducing myself to complete strangers, I find myself struggling to sum up my existence, values, and personality in a few short sentences.

I remember last year upon one of my frequent visits to CAMHS (Counseling and Mental Health Services), I told my counsellor I felt like I was being fake all the time. Except, I knew I wasn’t being fake because I knew that whatever facet of myself I was presenting was a part of me. Obviously, I wouldn’t be the funny, goofy self I am on Instagram Stories in a meeting with my professor, and obviously I wouldn’t be my drunkenly happy self when I was writing a campaign statement. Was I being inauthentic?

My counsellor, who truly is one of the best people I know, smiled knowingly, turned to his wall, and pointed at a Walt Whitman quote I had seen every time I’d been to his office but hadn’t taken the time to understand. ‘I am large, I contain multitudes’. At the time, I thought it was the kind of thing any matcha-latte sipping, hot-yoga enduring millennial would proudly display on an iPhone case. But, having thought a little more carefully about it then, and in the year since then, I realize how accurate Whitman is of the human experience.

When I’m away at school, my family complains that the house is paluwa (Sinhalese, meaning lonely, quiet). Around my family, behind closed doors, I am a crazy, goofball. I dance around the house, talk to my cat aloud, and frequently bust out into different accents and made-up languages. If you didn’t know me, you’d think I was rolling on molly. All the time. I’m also more prone to anger at home than anywhere else because I trust my family more than anyone else in the world, and I know that I can let my guard down without being turned on. I can curse and swear and cry about whatever I want because I will always be loved by my parents, and siblings.

With my best friends, and recently even new acquaintances, I tone it down by around 20%. Instead, I indulge in vulnerability (heck, have you read my posts here), and can frequently be found in Adams or Eliot Dining Hall laughing about whatever meme is trending and crying my eyes out reflecting on the one time I saw an older gentleman standing alone at night time in the middle of the road and my heart broke for him because I couldn’t help but project onto him that he was looking for a long-lost family. Or, crying about how beautiful the latest film I saw was. Or, crying about whatever dramatic thing just happened in my life.

In classrooms or professional environments, I am as silent as a mouse. I shrink into myself, and although I am very alert, taking mental stock of all the mannerisms my peers and colleagues exhibit, I experience a flood of insecure thoughts. I am constantly afraid of screwing up, saying the wrong thing, and recently, being considered snobby because I go to Harvard. No one would believe I am the same person as the crazy girl jumping around her home in Gants Hill talking to her cat.

At first glance, I’ve been told I look composed, cool, and a little intimidating. This makes me laugh. A lot. Me? Intimidating? Please, I feel so bad even thinking about killing spiders in my room that I go to the bathroom to wait until the spider creeps away, and then I lay in bed awake at night because I’m scared it will come back and crawl over my face.

Recently, I’ve gotten badass, and trouble-maker. I’m flattered, but I don’t know if I have earned either of those things. I have always had a very strong sense of right and wrong, so much so that it is painful to watch the news and read about whatever country the US or the UK have decided to screw over, and in recent months and years I have tried to hold myself accountable and not just watch and wait, because silence is still an action.

I’ve just about scratched the surface of who I am, but my point is, I am all of these personalities rolled into a convenient, deceivingly short human being. And whoever you are, reading this, scrolling through my social media and viewing my Instagram Stories thinking you know me, I hope I get to meet you in person and be myself. I hope we can connect and I can hear about you and your vulnerabilities, and that we can laugh and cry in the same conversation.

I might contradict myself, but don’t we all? I am large, and I contain multitudes.