On Becoming.

Ever wake up and wonder who you want to be when you grow up? Whether you’re 14, or 34, or 54, you might be asking “Is this it?,” “Am I doing all I want, all I can?” or “Who am I and who am I becoming?”

Carl Rogers, the father of humanist psychology, knew a lot about what makes us content and a lot of it had to do with the process of unfolding our true selves: knowing who we are, what we want, and how we show up in the world. His observation that “the good life is a process of becoming” invites us to savor our own creation.

Chicago’s own father of self-psychology, Heinz Kohut, believed we need validation, empathy and belonging: it is in these interactions with others that we come to know, and like, ourselves.

People tend to think most about identity during the teen or middle aged years and imagine the identity crisis of literature and film. But for every Holden Caulfield, Thelma and Louise, or Walter White who live their identity crisis in quick, dramatic fashion, most of us take a slower and quieter approach to becoming ourselves: watching, wondering, trying things on for size, learning, hoping to be seen and heard, feeling lost when we aren’t, and feeling reassured, even ecstatic, when we are. We don’t hatch from one stage fully formed, but rather unfold, like a small but mighty seed or delicate origami.

In an analog world, the voices of family, friends, teachers, peer groups and communities build us up or tear us down, make us feel like we belong or like we don’t. This is hard enough, but these days finding ourselves means navigating a dizzying swirl of social media commentary, fast fashion trends, gaming avatars, tik tok personalities, and now, AI bot buddies. Where they end and we begin has never been more confusing. It's no wonder we sometimes get lost on the path to becoming.

Usually, there are hints, the bread crumbs of early interests, passions that emerged only to get shut down or forgotten, friends or activities that made us come alive, even an embarrassing moment that might reveal a part of ourselves.

For me, the signs of my boisterous and ebullient side – the part my work colleagues came to call “Bubbles” – were present circa age 2 or 3 when reports suggest I was always singing on the toilet. Not just humming a little tune, but belting-out-show-tunes singing.

At age 3, I remember hearing a song at the local tavern (a story for another day). As I sipped my orange pop, apparently already struck by a deep existential angst, I hummed to Peggy Lee’s voice, “Is that all there is? Is that all there is my friend? Then let’s keep dancing…”

My sense that our earthly pursuit might focus on the search for true meaning, purpose, and without question, a healthy dose of joy, seemed to exist before I had words for it. Fortunately, Peggy had the words, and this scene, that plays like it happened last week, holds a kernel of wisdom about who I am and what I would become. 

If you go back in time, what do you remember?

What threads might you tug, which part of your tapestry points to a you yet unexplored or underdeveloped? What parts of yourself did you tuck away for another day? What feelings are percolating, pulling at you, to discover anew?

Can you check in with your inner child, your inner teen, the young adult who had hope but few resources or the middle aged person with more resources than direction? Where are you in the personal, one-of-a-kind, as unique as the stars in the sky, discovery of your true self?

Who are you becoming?

In therapy, we can ask these questions. In a space that feels safe for open-ended exploration. We’ll ponder what you want from life, how this fits the tapestry you’ve already woven and that which is still in creation. We’ll notice that there are often many parts of us, competing for attention, some protecting us, some firing up our passion, some with the seed for what’s next.

And when we know these things about ourselves, and accept them, and allow others to see them and co-create them with us, we feel more vital, energized, worthy, like we belong. Feelings of restlessness, sadness, fear, and anxiety lessen. We come un-stuck.

When we have a safe space for our becoming, we find our inner voice and an outer expression to match.

So grab an orange pop and let’s get to work!