Big Me | Little Me – Who are we?

Do you ever wonder why we become certain versions of ourselves ? Do we follow a predestined path that serves as the blueprint for our chapters, or do we create our routes as we go, following twists and turns wherever they take us, so that our lives are largely fortuitous, full of chance and risk?

Dan Chaon’s short story, “Big Me,” captured my imagination when I read it decades back. Andrew, the narrator, was a young loner growing up in a tumultuous family. As a child, Andrew lived predominately in an imaginary world, pretending to be a sleuth, aka, “the Detective,” who undertook risky escapades. Andrew kept a journal, in which he wrote to a futuristic version of himself, Big Me, “I hope you are not a failure….I hope you are happy.”

While our younger selves like to wonder who and what we will become, perhaps the allure of not knowing, of having the chance to create our fate is more compelling. One of the most remarkable aspects of life is that we get to know ourselves over decades, our mysteries unfolding with each sunrise. As we get older, we often reflect on who we have become, and marvel or mourn the choices we’ve made and the opportunities we’ve taken – or missed – along the way.

All of which begs the question, who are we? The versions of ourselves who may have dared to dream and took chances? Or are we the versions of ourselves who may have grown into more practical and grounded editions of the dreamers we were in our youths?

While we can’t repeat the past or change the routes we’ve traveled, reflection enables us to tweak our future routes based on missed moments. Often, along the way of our journeys, various circumstances  cause us to lose aspects of ourselves – a creative outlet, a feeling or belief we held close, or our optimism.

For many of us, the driving force of our younger lives is working hard – in school, at sports, jobs, or some other activity – so that we can become successful adults. We hope that our lives will improve, and that we will not be as desperate and miserable as we may have felt in earlier years. The thing about growing up is that no matter how fun or painful it is, there’s always a forward aspect to it. We are all trying to get somewhere in which we are better versions of ourselves. Growing up is a futuristic sport – we plot and plan, which often keeps us from experiencing who and what we are in the moment and missing the magic that is often all around us. We never suppose that we are living the greatness then and there. But what if the Little Me versions of ourselves are our truest selves, pure and unfiltered? What if there isn’t a better chapter? When are we truly Big Me, and when, if ever, does Little Me vanish into the background?

Later in Chaon’s story, the narrator ponders: “There are so many people we could become, and we leave such a trail of bodies through our teens and twenties that it’s hard to tell which one is us. How many versions do we abandon over the years? How many end up nearly forgotten, mumbling, and gasping for air in some tenement room of our consciousness, like elderly relatives suffering some fatal lung disease?” Andrew, who evolves into a seemingly well-functioning adult, reflects on the fact that he and his family members knew little of one another, musing, “If no one knows you, then you are no one.” I would amend that sentiment: If you don’t know yourself, it’s hard for others to know you.

In our Little Me chapters, often, no one tells us that we must ask for what we want. Or that we must make peace with perseverance and commitment. No one tells us that we must find a way to pursue our dreams that keeps them vibrant on languid days. In our Big Me chapters, we are supposed to have the answers. But there’s no class or how-to guide to transition us from Little Me to Big Me. We are young and then we’re older, in different chapters, with new rules and measures.

Perhaps we all become a version of ourselves that we glimpsed earlier in our lives – a premonition, an idea, a possibility that we entertained, but dismissed. Maybe we lived up to our mediocre expectations, or surpassed them beyond our wildest dreams because someone believed in us, or inspired us to believe in ourselves. Maybe we are always a blend of Big Me and Little me, our duality spinning us into our future selves, and to think we shed prior versions of ourselves is a myth. Perhaps our magic rests in embracing all our selves and trusting that Big Me and Little Me are with us every step of the journey, pulling us back into all we were, before we propel forward, like waves, flowing into all that will be.