Who Am I?

Why yes I am :)

I’ve spent my whole life trying to wrap my head around who I am. And I don’t know how many people can actually define themselves — or even want to — but I’ve always tried to make sense of the things I do, think, feel, and react to.

And sometimes? It just doesn’t make sense.

Sometimes I’ll catch myself doing something or loving something or getting mad about something and think:

“Who the hell are you, Daphne?”

Not in a mean way.

Not in a confused way.

More like discovering a new room in a house you’ve lived in your whole life.

Because the truth is: I’m not one thing. I never have been.

I’m the woman with a giant gothic back tattoo that looks like she fought her way out of the underworld and won… and I’m also the woman who cries way too easily at things nobody else even notices.

I’m the girl-next-door who makes journals with owls because she believes the universe hears her… and I’m also the woman who pulls out her tarot cards at parties like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

I’m soft and warm and nurturing… and I act like my last name way too often — and if you know the Tapps, you know exactly what that means.

I’m creative to the point of obsession — art, writing, designing, making things out of nothing… and I’m also the person who pretends she doesn’t care about most things but actually cares way too much.

I’m sentimental and spiritual… and sarcastic and chaotic… and grounded and wild… and emotional and tough… and gentle and sharp… and calm and dramatic… all at the same time.

And honestly? I kind of like not knowing how I’ll react to things. Keeps life interesting. Keeps me interesting. Keeps Chuck on his toes :) It’s like watching my own plot twist in real time.

And maybe that’s the part I’ve been trying to understand all these years — not who I am, but how all these pieces fit together without canceling each other out.

Because they don’t cancel.

They layer.

They stack.

They build.

They make me… me.

So maybe I’m not supposed to be easily defined. Maybe none of us are.

Maybe we’re supposed to surprise ourselves sometimes. Maybe we’re supposed to look at our own lives and say, “Who the hell are you?” and then smile because the answer is:

All of it.  

Every version.

Every contradiction.

Every chapter.

Even the ones that don’t make sense yet.

I can’t wait to see what I do next.