Who Am I?

By Celia Barabanov '22

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“I am an optimist because there is no sense in the opposite.” That’s Dad paraphrasing Winston Churchill. This has always been his favorite quote so naturally, it became mine. I typed it up in colorful font and put it up on my closet door so I could always see it. Even today, I believe the message of this quote is important for us to remember, especially in the midst of our stressful lives. But in a broader sense, this quote demonstrates my evolving relationship with my parents.

When I was younger, I lived by this quote. I always tried to be happy in order to make my parents happy. But, of course, the teenage years came and this became more challenging. My parents would consistently tell me to maintain my happy view of life and avoid being a “stereotypical teenager.” I was supposed to be the happy one in my family. “Don’t lose that part of you,” they’d say. That part of me that they had influenced. The part that they prefer. The part that they taught me to play.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I am forever grateful to my parents and this past Thanksgiving gave me time to reflect on how truly thankful I am. My parents have given a lot to make me who I am today and cared for me like no one could.

But, notice I said, “they’ve made me who I am.”

This statement is very true, because I feel that we are greatly influenced by our parents and their personalities and preferences.

Just last year, when the time came around for concentration program applications, I was extremely stressed. I had considered GPAC, but was concerned that it would require me to give up ceramics, which I love. I was ready to dismiss the idea until the day my Dad went to the parent meeting where they described each program and its requirements to the parents. He came home and immediately reported: “I went to GPAC. Celia, I really think you should do it. I love the kind of stuff you study and I think it’ll be very interesting.”

“I thought about it, but then I’d have to give up ceramics and it’ll also be an extra class,” I replied.

Predictably, my Mom then chimed in. “It may be good to do if you want to study language in college because they sort of connect,” she said.

Oh, here we go. College. I hear the word and immediately stress. My Ivy League Mom and Stanford alumn Dad. Great. But, I digress.

“Ok. I’ll think about it, Mom,” I said and left the room.

One week later, I applied to GPAC.

This year has proven to be hectic, with my extra class, I am rarely able to hang out with friends. Even my parents have noticed my additional stress. Although I have come to enjoy GPAC, there are times when I ask myself: Did I do this for me or for my parents? What if I kept taking ceramics instead of going in once every few weeks? Would I have enjoyed that more?

Some may think I’m being too harsh. My parents are simply trying to make me a better person and “push me in the right direction.” Fair enough, although I believe that the purpose of life is to experience it and to discover your own path and your true identity, among other things.

Parents may be so worried about the future that they don’t let their kids live their own lives and make mistakes.

I’ve felt this more often recently.

For the past couple of weeks, in English class and GPAC we have discussed Hobbes and his extremely negatively view of human nature. As my classmates immediately disagreed with his opinions, I couldn’t help but want to defend them. Maybe it was just my debating spirit, but as I continued to vouch for Hobbes, I began to agree with him. Well, maybe not all of it. But I will admit that I consider human nature selfish. My classmates called me a pessimist. “Ask the animals how much humans are willing to give up for others,” I challenged.

Finding the optimistic opinion of others amusing and hypocritical, I proceeded to tell my family at the dinner table.

“Wow,” my Mom replied. “You’ve really become a downer. You used to be so happy as a kid.”

“I’m just being realistic, and it’s my personal opinion. You don’t have to agree,” I exclaimed in defense.

“Fair enough,” my Mom conceded.

All the while my Dad was shaking his head. I couldn’t help but feel ashamed. Had I really changed so much? Will my parents look at me differently now? Why is my opinion so negative? These unanswered questions continue to pester me for the next few weeks. Though I attempted to push it aside, the overarching question continued to linger: Should I feel ashamed for my own opinion?

Why should I? I am my own person, so I have a right to my OWN opinion. This got me thinking: All my life I always wanted to please my parents, naturally. But, in fact, how much of myself have I sacrificed or conformed to fit their desires?

Where do you draw the line? How do you become your own person?

Do children ever feel independent of their parents? I still don’t have a concrete answer. Maybe it’s inevitable that our parents greatly influence us. But is it too much to hope for a time when I feel like my own person? Do you?