In which I apologise profusely…sorta…

You may have noticed I did not post yesterday.

You may have thought, “Oh no! I hope she didn’t die! She’s always so consistent!”

…or your memory may have served you right; you may have remembered previous incidences and thought, “She’ll probably post at midnight.”

Either way, you were wrong–but thanks for thinking of me. By way of apology for posting late, I will make a brief explanation: My mother came to visit me.

...but really, guys, I rejoiced loudly for the month leading up to her visit.
…but really, guys, I rejoiced loudly for the month leading up to her visit.

This statement should convey excitement, but it should also convey terror. Because…well…let me tell you about my identity fears.

One key factor of identity is consistency (and I know this for sure because my psych prof said so in class yesterday). Consistency means that my identity is the same whether I’m at school or at home, or whether I’m on my blog or in person, or whether I’m with my roommate or my professor.

Or my mother.

This week, with my mother following me around (“like a lost puppy,” in her words; “a very cute lost puppy, though,” in mine…) I’ve realised that it’s incredibly difficult to be the same person at school as at home, and I never noticed until someone from home dropped into my school environment.

Suddenly I caught myself second-guessing everything from my answers in class to my morning routine. I even started worrying that my coffee was bad. (And that proves I was afraid, because I never doubt my coffee. I make fabulous coffee.)


It wasn’t bad. It made me live up to expectations. I thought in classes before I spoke instead of blurting out whatever came to mind. I reevaluated everything through new eyes, so I thought deeper, harder, and more critically about the things I learned and the way I responded. I cleaned my room and did my dishes–not because I had to because my mum was there, but because I want to be clean anyway, and having her there provided a catalyst (ten-point word!) for decent living habits.

Mostly, this week, I was afraid I would disappoint her. But hey, she hasn’t run off yet, and she keeps hugging me, so we must be good.

And she likes my coffee.

So in the end, I guess my apology is sort of an explanation and a challenge. When someone follows you around–someone whose opinion you value–how do you act? How do you think? How different are you from your normal self–and why?


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