Hello and welcome to Shi Today, I am your host Shi. I say that like it means something, but you’re probably thinking, “Who the hell is Shi?” and the honest answer is I don’t know. I can give you a great list of descriptors, I mean lists are kind of my thing. I LOVE a good list. It lets me know what I’ve done, where I’m at, and what’s next. Lists are my gentle reminders and anxiety trackers where I get to keep track of what I need to do. They are the good cop / bad cop of my psyche, the tight walk rope of my sanity. The line items of my life.
I guess we can start there, here’s the basics
- In my 40’s (not sure when this happened)
- Mom of 2 young men (or this)
- Wife
- Resident of suburban NOVA (4/10 don’t recommend, but we can get into that later)
- Oldest sister to five siblings
- Raised in a very small town in Upstate NNY (true upstate NNY by Canada)
- A numbers girl professionally
- Over thinker
- List maker (obviously)
- Big reader – some David Weber, Robert Jordan, Nora Roberts, Christine Feehan, smut (I skip the dirty scenes), Dean Koontz
- Crochet dabbler (aka hobby hooker) and yarn addict
- A crafty DIYer
- Neurodivergent (the socially awkward, everything must be perfect, did I get it all done, did I say something wrong kind)
- New Magic the Gathering Casual Commander
Note to self to do lists are easy, lists about yourself are not. And why is that? Who is supposed to know us better than ourselves? Logically, I should be capable of creating an endless list of me. This would include all the facets of my personality. But beyond the basics, I draw a blank. Ok, maybe not a blank. Words like sarcastic, helper, outsider, odd sense of humor, deep feeler, prudish, and giver come to mind. But I’m not those things to everyone I know. They are parts of me but are they me? Can I use those words on my instruction label? The label to the world that identifies what I am made of and how to care for me.
And before you start thinking, great just another Basic Betty getting her mid-life crisis on. I promise you, I am not. If I was, this crisis started back in junior high during one of those teacher given aptitude tests. Those tests ask you who you are and what you want to be when you grow up. I sometimes wonder if anyone including myself really knows me. Depending on where I am and who I am with there’s like a different persona. When I worked retail there was a customer service persona – all Polly Pocket, with strong manners. When I met with my sons teachers there was the mom persona. I got my kids back, but I also support you. I know he’s a mini me x 10. When I’m working with my boss – all reserved, respectful, and knowledgeable. And they aren’t all completely separate. Some will bleed into others when needed. Sometimes they bleed into others when they aren’t needed, and then it’s a big mess.
I guess on the outside, I am who I need to be at that moment. Transforming tiny pieces of myself to meet the situation I am in at that present place in time. I am a surface chameleon trying to meet environmental expectations. Inside, I’m a scribble of anxiety. I fight to hide the endless list of insecurities and confusion. These insecurities and confusion continuously run on the banners of my soul. They hide and protect me from the outside. Only willing to share the societal approved basics with everyone else.
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