So, I'm not sure what it is, but there are multiple versions of me. In the States, I had experienced this before. I had noticed that the Cities version of me was different than the Two Harbors version of me. Was different from the Camp Lebanon version of me. And even in the Cities, it was almost like I had different personalities based on whom I was with. But there, the differences were more subtle. I was funny with one group of friends, I was intentional with another, I was an introvert with another. And none of this was intentional. I wasn't trying to be something I wasn't, it was almost that different people were drawing out different aspects of who I am.
But the Nigerian version of Warren is much different than the American version. Less likely to laugh, I feel as though my face is constantly molded into a furrowed, pensive expression. My fuse is shorter. My sorrow is nearer. My joy is deeper (not in the way you might be thinking. My joy is deeper down. Like drawing water from a well, the deeper it is, the more work it takes to bring it out. It's there, but it isn't as likely to overflow at random moments.).
And I don't know if I like it.
I was somewhat concerned that when I went home this summer, that the change in me would be permanent. But it wasn't. I went right back to Camp Warren or Cities Warren or Two Harbors Warren. It's just here in Nigeria that I become that parallel version of Warren. And that's a bit frustrating. It's humbling to know that I truly am a blade of grass tossed about by the wind. I can't control my own emotions. I can't control my own state of mind (at least in a major way).
Once again, it is to God that I have to run to find my identity (it's hard to believe He's not sick o me yet). Because this body of flesh keeps changing. I am the most inconsistent thing I know. So I have to rest in Him. Otherwise I am no longer me.
So that I am no longer me.