For much of my life, I’ve been stymied by the question of what I was. I could tell people how I made my living, but I wasn’t sure how to define myself. I went through a serious identity crisis when I was 29 years old.
I had been operating a publishing company for about three years, but the company failed and I had to shut it down. It was the first major failure of my life, and it threw me into a tailspin. Up until that time, I had defined myself as a businessman and as a newspaper editor, but everything felt hollow at that point. I realized that I had a serious question: “What am I?”
I spent the next year in a general state of depression and despair. I’m not sure how I made it through that period. Nothing seemed to matter. And every day, the question from the face in the mirror mocked me: “Who are you, David?”
After considering and discarding a million ways of defining myself, I finally found an answer to my existential crisis, but that answer scared me even more than the nothingness of the depression had. It felt true, but I somehow felt like a fraud to say it. I was an artist.
Heart that truly loves is a servant for another’s happiness and peace
Shock of seeing ‘Airplane!’ was realizing that I wasn’t all alone
Danger of Iran war getting stronger because of blindness, hypocrisy
How do renegade ‘weird ideas’ grow and spread to win acceptance?
A month after my father’s death, it doesn’t feel real that he’s gone
Global warming or a new ice age? Anyone who claims to know is lying
Marriage is a business decision, not just matter of romantic love