Who Am I? The Exploratory Use of Metaphor

Therapy or counselling is an interesting topic. I quite enjoy noting people’s reactions when you admit to seeing a therapist. I’m generally met with two different scenarios. The “oh that’s great I know lots of people who have been for therapy and it’s really helped them” or the plain old “oh… really?”

Needless to say the first reaction makes me feel like I’m not actually crazy and the second reaction generally fills me with amusement, together with the underlying feeling of “you should probably go for some yourself.”

Over the last few months I have been attending psychotherapy to deal with some underlying issues that have been present in my life for a long time. To try and get some answers, help build my confidence and self-esteem and move forward in my life rather than repeatedly getting stuck in a rut.

Last week was a fairly intense session and by the end I was left feeling slightly morose. My therapist turned to me and said, “This week I’d just like you to spend some time enjoying being you.”

So, I left my session and the first reaction I was met with was, “But who the hell am I?”

The next few days I found myself pondering this question over and over again. And time and time again I was met with blankness, like the early morning stares, with no inspiration filtering into my confused brain. So I decided to leave the question alone.

This week I told my therapist the problem I’d had enjoying being myself. I mentioned how asking such a generalised question about who we are is so difficult to define. Of course I could answer with my gender, sexuality, age, profession, or even how I think others view me (the answer is always sickeningly “lovely” by the way… we’re working through that) but it’s such an esoteric question.

Who are we? What is the answer to that question?

So, then she tried a different tack. “If you were a car, what type of car would you be?”

“Well” I said, thinking, “I’d probably be an old vintage racing car, but one that is slightly rusty in parts, but loved and cared for. Quirky. Interesting. Not like a commercial brand new all gadget shiny thingy. Oh no. That’s not me at all.”

She smiled at me.

“Ohhhhhh. I see!” And thus, I saw. So I’m interesting, different, individual, not perfect, and definitely not mainstream.

We went on to discuss other things that I thought I would be. Flowers, interior décor, etc. The more I spoke, the better I felt, the more I felt defined as a person. I was beginning to realise who I was. Metaphorically speaking, of course.

So now I’ve got a few weeks off from therapy, and my homework is to design myself a “mood board” of metaphors based around what I think of myself. It’s interesting objectifying me, and whilst this might not suit everyone (perhaps it’s more of a man thing?) but I’m certainly looking forward to creating “me”.

And in my creation, perhaps somewhere I will find my voice, the ability to stand up for what I believe in, for I’m passionate about. With self-identity comes a certain sense of value and an increase in self-worth.

So I ask the question, “If you were a car, what would you be?”

Here’s to the humble metaphor.