Becoming Me
We define ourselves by what we do. We are our careers: doctor, lawyer, accountant, graphic designer, zoologist, journalist. We are also our hobbies: photographer, surfer, runner, recipe developer, woodworker, traveler. How we spend our time is where we spend our energy and where we spend our energy becomes the focus of our livesβthe focus of our lives shapes our personalities and our personalities are our identities. Young children explore the world through their five senses and discover their likes, dislikes, and interests. They learn what intrigues them and what irritates them. These preferences form the foundation that creates their character and determines what hobbies they pursue, who they associate with, and what type of person they become. Over time, their foundation solidifies into an identity. And a personβs identity influences every facet of their choices: how they dress, where they live, how they speak, what they watch on TV, what they read, what music they listen to, who they spend time with, what they eat, and how they decorate their home. In my opinion, a strong sense of self is one of the most important characteristics a person can have.
What if I told you I donβt know who I am? Sure, I know my name is Micaela Hoo and I was born in Long Island to Gordon and Dawn Hoo. I know I love avocados and donβt like persimmons and love to read and write and donβt like big crowds but love big cities. I love hot, sunny weather, and thrift shopping and photography and math makes my head spin. However, with me, itβs a little tricky to know whatβs real and whatβs not. Ever since I can remember, Iβve lived with chronic illnesses. I never thought they were illnesses because when you grow up only knowing something a certain way, you accept it as βnormalβ. Iβd experience stomach aches, bloating, and rashes on my hands. My teeth would sometimes throb and Iβd get this terrible metallic taste in my mouth. Iβd feel dizzy and lightheaded out of nowhere and Iβd lose my train of thought mid-sentence. When I was a young girl, I spoke as little as possible in the company of others because I was afraid Iβd embarrass myself if I started to say something and lost my train of thought midway through. Better not to speak at all than to start to say something only to forget where I was going with it and have to offer up a sheepish apology while the conversation turns awkwardly silent. The prospect of embarrassing myself like this brought me terrible anxiety. I had trouble following conversations because my mind would run off to another land, worrying about what Iβd say if someone asked me a question. Adults called me βshyβ and I preferred to journal my thoughts and feelings instead of talking things out. If I could speak more coherently, would I be as much of a writer as I am? Would I still be shy? Would I still have anxiety around small talk? Or would I be more outgoing, not trying to find excuses to get out of every social engagement that came my way?
Since my stomach often hurt, during my formative years, I gravitated towards more sedentary activities like reading and writing and arts and crafts. I loved to read, devouring books like a student downing energy drinks pulling an all-nighter. Did I love to read because I couldnβt run or ride bikes around my neighborhood with the other kids? If I played outside more, would I still have discovered my love of the written word? Would I have had such a strong calling to become a published author? If our circumstances shape our likes and dislikes, would my likes and dislikes have been different if my circumstances were different? What of my personality is true and what of my personality was formed by my illnesses? Or are my illnesses my circumstances and therefore my illness-formed personality is my true identity? I used to think my illnesses were separate from my true personality, something I had to compartmentalize like separating trash from recycling. As I learn more about myself, I believe theyβre intrinsically tied to my being and thereβs no need to differentiate the two. Theyβre baked into every fiber of meβlike a child who grows up in the country will always associate home with open fields and unobstructed starry night skies.
In my mid-twenties, I was diagnosed with late-stage chronic Lyme disease, mold toxicity, Hashimotoβs disease, Candida, and parasites. My healing protocol demands I be extremely disciplined with the structure of my day: drink this juice first thing in the morning on an empty stomach, take this medication at this time with this food, hold this tincture under my tongue for at least 20 seconds, get at least 15 minutes of sunshine a day, go to bed early, wake up early, keep a food diary, go to acupuncture, sit in the infrared sauna, dry brush, soak in Epsom salt baths, do coffee enemas, and rotate my supplements every 10 days so my body doesnβt become immune to them. Would I be more spontaneous, more adventurous, less rigid if I wasnβt forced to keep such a regimented routine? I do think Iβm naturally organized, but I donβt know if I would be this excessively anal if I didnβt have to be.
The βwhat ifβ will always be a wonder in all of us. Itβs part of the human experience to wonder how our lives would be different if this didnβt happen or if we didnβt do this or chose this and not that. Would we be better off or worse off? Thereβs always the lingering βwhat ifβ. I indulge myself in the βwhat ifβ sometimes, letting mind go down the spiral of imagining all the scenarios that could have been. But life is all about the now, and who we are in the present, and I am grateful for being here and for everything that has shaped my identity. Our journey is ours, no matter how tough it can sometimes be. Own it.