Psychologist Carl Jung said the first half of life is spent building an identity based on who we think others want us to be. A few of us spend the second half destroying that false identity down to discover who we really are.
That makes perfect sense—and it raises the question:
How much of who I am is actually me? How much of you is you?
Think about it. When we’re born, we don’t choose our race or the country we’re born in. We don’t pick our name or whether we have a penis or vagina. Then they start telling us how to behave and how to dress. What’s “normal” and what’s not.
The internet, TV, music, and social media tell us what we should or shouldn’t like. Schools tell us what to study and what books to read. Society tells us what jobs we can have, what’s possible and what’s out of reach. What’s healthy and what’s not. What we should be doing with our lives. Depending on where we’re born, we’re told what religion to follow. Our culture tells us what superstitions and beliefs we must carry. We’re told what success looks like. What failure means. What to eat, what not to eat. What we’re allowed to wear based on gender. Even how we should be buried when we die.
The list is endless.
We’re influenced—manipulated—by society, music, TV, movies, friends, family, the internet, and social media. Music tells us how to feel, talk, dress, and what’s trending. The news controls us with fear and division—race, class, nationality—anything that separates us. Movies tell us what love is “supposed” to look like, normalize gossip and drama, and define beauty. Media tells us what music is good, what books to buy, and what fashion is “in.”
We fall into these traps—caught in an invisible competition we never agreed to play. We see our friends take nice vacations, so we go into debt trying to impress people who don’t care. We see people eating at expensive restaurants on Instagram, so we spend money we don’t have. Our kids want the latest shoes because their friends have them. We give in. We stampede into Target for an oversized water cup just like the rest of the sheep. We buy silver charm bracelets to show how “unique” we are—just like everyone else.
I remember in high school thinking I was “cool”—spiking my hair, wearing baggy pants, stacking bracelets up my arms to show how “different” I was. But I looked just like everyone else in my little Hot Topic circle. I wasn’t unique. I was copying the tribe I wanted to belong to. That wasn’t me. That was a costume. A mask.
Even as adults, we go to jobs where we’re told what to wear, when to show up, how much we’re worth, what our title is, how to act. Don’t follow the script? You’re fired. Go play the game somewhere else. We’re told what a good parent looks like. How our own kids should dress and behave—or we’re bad parents.
When does it stop?
I’m tired of performing. I’m not here to please anyone. This is my life. I’m the only one who has to live it. I don’t want to die never knowing who I really was. I want to live free. Walk my own path. I know what is right and wrong—for me. There is no right or wrong; there is only what works and doesn’t work based on what I’m trying to achieve.
If I want to lose weight, eating ice cream every day is wrong because it will not get me my desired outcome. If I want to be a better father, then spending time with my kids and actually being there for them when they need me is right.
I don’t give a fuck about politics or how expensive things are. I can’t control that. What I can control is me—how I respond. I won’t waste my energy getting offended. My mental energy is too valuable. I won’t let anyone else control my emotions. I don’t care what people say about my race, my gender, my parenting, my country—none of it. Call me a bad parent. Call me a bitch. A narcissist. Whatever. They don’t know me. And even if they did—fuck it.
I also don’t have to hold onto beliefs that do more harm than good. The fewer beliefs I carry, the stronger I am. Beliefs are passed down through culture, religion, nationality. If I was born a different race, in a different country, I’d have completely different beliefs than the ones that were tried to be instilled into me. If I was born in another country, I would not be this person that I am today. I would’ve lived a different life and had different experiences that would’ve molded me into someone entirely different.
We mustn’t hold onto these self-imposed beliefs and identity we’ve come to believe we are, because we are nothing. We can choose to be whoever we want. I’ve been Jerry the junkie. Jerry the nothing. Jerry the drug dealer. Jerry the raver. Jerry the skater. Jerry the Honda guy. Right now, I’m Jerry the writer—or maybe Jerry the pompous asshole, depending on who you ask. And again, I don’t give a fuck.
Because I’m none of those things.
I am nothing.
And in being nothing—I am everything.
I’m not my name. Not my race. Not my gender. Not my job. Not my car. I’m nothing. And because of that, I can be everything. If I want to learn guitar, I’m a musician. If I want to make art, I’m an artist. If I want to do nothing—I can do nothing.
Labels don’t define me. I’m not even the person typing this. I’m the observer, watching it all unfold.
As the observer, I have no thoughts—I just observe.
Ever had a thought and forgot it immediately? That’s because it wasn’t really your thought. If it was truly yours, you would’ve remembered it. Most people avoid silence because they don’t want to hear their thoughts. But here’s the truth: those thoughts aren’t yours. Ever had an idea pop into your head from nowhere? That’s because it came from nowhere.
Those voices in your head—your fears, doubts, projections—they’re not you. These voices are fears, beliefs, and projections that we’ve let into our minds. I’ve noticed the more silence I allow, the quieter those voices become. When that voice says, “You won’t get the job, Sally’s more qualified,” that’s not you. That’s programming. That’s society. That’s bullshit.
Fuck that bitch Sally. Go in and show them why you’re the better candidate.
You don’t have to believe the voices and thoughts in your head—they do you no good.
You are the observer. Watching. Waiting. Detached.
Think of the observer like a scientist running an experiment. Mix a little insecurity with adversity. Add encouragement. Watch the mouse fight for her life.
Are you the mouse—or the scientist?
You’re both. And you’re also the variables.
There are two realities: the real one, and the apparent one.
We go through life thinking we’re seeing reality—but we’re only seeing our own perspective. We’re the main character in our own movie.
Let’s say it’s Wednesday. You forget to set your alarm. You wake up late. You’re speeding to work and crash your car. Now you’re in the hospital. Your weekend plans are ruined. You tell everyone you have bad luck. That someone’s jealous and sending negative energy.
That’s your apparent reality.
The real one? You woke up late. You sped. You crashed. Actions have consequences. It’s just math: A leads to B, leads to C, leads to D.
But we live in first-person mode. It’s hard to see life objectively. We’re self-centered by nature. Everything revolves around us—apparently.
So just know, the world you think you live in? It’s not real. My world is not the same world you experience, and vice versa. That’s why two siblings can grow up with the same alcoholic, abusive father and grow up to be completely different people. One will be just like his father because that was who his father was, while the other one will be the complete opposite for the exact same reason—but he chose not to be the same.
Once I understood that I didn’t have to be what society or my family said I should be—and that I didn’t have to believe anything—I became free. I’m not my thoughts. I’m not “Jerry.” I let go of every label I ever gave myself.
Because we can’t know what we are, until we experience what we are not.
I can’t know hot without cold. Can’t know love without hate. Can’t know happiness without sadness.
So don’t reject the pain—embrace it. Without knowing myself as evil, I can’t know myself as loving.
We can’t know joy without gloom. Can’t know light without darkness.
We are nothing.
And we are everything.
