Have Nø Fear

Earlier today I listened to the story of Bunny the dog on TikTok, who’s owner taught her the English language using buttons that programmed with words. Bunny got so good at this that she started forming somewhat cohesive thoughts—not perfect sentences, but enough for her owner to communicate with her.
It was all a bit unsettling.
Then, one day Bunny revealed to her owner that she thought she was human “I human,” she stated, or asked using her buttons.
Her owner corrected her.
She then looked at her reflection and tapped out the words, “who’s that?”
The owner broke the news to her. “that’s you.”
A dog self actualized in real time in front of his owner.
Apparently afterwards, Bunny the dog had to be put on antidepressants, which I found QUITE unfortunate.
But honestly? I get it.
To wake up one day and find out you’re not who you thought you were can be earth-shattering. Or maybe, I just see it that way because I’m addicted to identity.
My identity.
Who I am.
Who I was.
How I became who I am.
What people feel when they’re around me.
What they’ll remember me as when I’m gone.
I’m OBSESSED.
So I can only imagine what it must’ve felt like for Bunny to go from simply existing —
wake up, breathe, follow owner around, eat, shit —
to suddenly realizing:
“Oh. I’m not a person. I’m a dog.”
A dog living in service to a person.
Owned by a person.
Existing largely for the pleasure of a person.
Yikes.
That sounds horrible when you actually say it out loud.
But seriously, I constantly wonder:
Is anyone as obsessed with identity as I am?
Is this healthy?
Am I overthinking myself instead of actually living?
What am I even supposed to do with all this self-awareness?
Is this the bad part of ego people warn us about?
I’m still figuring it out. And here you are, taking it all in, in real time, with me.
May we find the balance between self-awareness and presence sooner rather than later.