Somewhere in early childhood, long before we learn what "identity" means or why people obsess over it, we quietly begin to understand: I am me. Not someone else, not an extension of others — but a separate, unique being with a name, a voice, a body, a view of the world. I remember having that moment of realization as a child — that I was a distinct part of the universe, unlike anyone else.

And then, like many kids do, I began to wonder: What if I had been born someone else? What if I were my classmate Yulia instead of me? I imagined walking her route home from school, entering a different apartment in the same building, being greeted by her little sister instead of mine, eating dinner made by her mom in their kitchen, wearing her clothes, carrying her backpack, brushing her hair. The thought made me uncomfortable. Not because Yulia wasn’t a good person — she was — but because I couldn’t shake the feeling that I didn’t belong in her life. I didn’t want to.

That’s when it hit me — even as a child — how deeply grateful I was to be myself. Not someone else, not a version of someone else, just…me.

As I grew older, that early insight became a quiet defense against one of life’s most toxic impulses: envy. We all feel it from time to time — someone else seems to have more, look better, live easier, succeed faster. But every time I feel that temptation creep in, I return to that childhood thought experiment: Would I want to be them completely? With all their burdens, fears, habits, and inner worlds? Would I trade my cross for theirs?

The answer, without fail, is no.

Because what we envy in others is often just the surface — the polished result, the filtered snapshot. But to truly have what someone else has, we’d have to become them in every way. And that, when you really think about it, isn’t desirable at all.

Each of us carries a unique cross — tailor-made for us. Life isn’t a comparison contest. It’s a journey we walk individually, each with our own challenges, blessings, and path toward meaning. As the Gospel says: "Take up your cross and follow Me." Not someone else’s cross. Yours.

That includes your struggles, your doubts, your limitations — but also your joys, your voice, your unique way of seeing the world. All of it is you. And being you is no accident.

So instead of asking, Why don’t I have what they have?, maybe the better question is, Am I walking my path well? Am I staying true to the life I’ve been given?

Because there’s something profoundly freeing in choosing to be at peace with who you are. Not in some superficial self-help way, but in the deep, spiritual sense of accepting that your life, your soul, your cross — all of it was entrusted to you, by a loving and purposeful Creator.

And for that, I say — as I did as a child, and still do now — Thank You, Lord, that I am me.