I'm Not a Cat Person. Or Am I?

“I never thought I was a cat person,” a friend of mine said when I asked her how things were going with her new kitten. “But I love watching her play with Athena.”

Athena was my friend’s dog. The latest dog. My friend has always had dogs because she thought- she knew!- she was a dog person. It was clearly a surprise to her that she took to the kitten so quickly.

I could relate. I never thought I was a pet person. And here I am: raising and spoiling two cats and a dog. Isn’t it crazy how we like to limit ourselves with seemingly harmless labels we put on our identities?

My chat with the newly proclaimed cat person made me think of a line from a TV show, “The Outlaws.” In my humble opinion, it is Stephen Merchant’s best work so far, so, if you like comedy, take a look. In the show, Merchant’s character, Greg, speculates that his wife had left him for another guy because he was not a professional skydiver, like the new guy is. Greg’s friend, Lady Gabby, has only one response to that. “Blokes who jump out of planes only jump out of planes because they jump out of planes”

Whether it’s a cat person, or a coffee person, or a person who doesn’t jump out of planes, we like to call ourselves one thing or another and then we believe we are that thing and nothing else.  We could simply say that we liked cats, dogs, or coffee, which would be way less limiting, but we leave that sentence structure for the kids and pick a grown-up label for ourselves. On the surface, there is nothing wrong with that. Saying that we are this or that is grammatically correct, clever, and concise to boot. But the wit and efficiency come at a cost. However slightly, the way we speak changes the way we see ourselves. Things that are easy to change become a part of who we are.

Tomato, tomato. It’s only semantics, right? Or is it? Let’s do a little experiment to find out.

Think of something you like or like doing  it. For example, walking. Now use those things in the following sentences.

1. I walk/ like walking

2. I am a walker.

Now say those sentences out loud and answer the following questions:

1. In which case, is the thing you like or like doing a part of your identity?

2. In which case do you feel more capable, knowledgeable, authoritative?

3. In which case would you justify spending a big chunk of money on an accessory for the thing you like?

I liked walking. In the Polish language, it was the only way to talk about my likes and dislikes. If I called myself a walker, it would mean I was a professional. Things changed when I moved to the US. I became a walker. It was a promotion for which the English grammar allowed. Everyone was something or another in the US: a runner, a writer, a thinker, a go-getter, a wine person, or not-a-people person. At first, I didn’t think it was more than a grammatical nuance. But it wasn’t long before I realized the power of such labeling. The very calling myself a walker made me feel fitter, more adventurous, and more outdoorsy. It was becoming a part of my identity. It even justified another pair of Salomon sneakers, which I wouldn’t need if I only liked walking.

Calling myself a walker was definitely empowering, but things were different when I learned to call myself not-a-morning person. Apart from giving me an excuse to get my morning coffee before doing anything else, this label didn’t serve me that well. It didn’t make me a better person. Actually, the more I called myself not-a-morning person, the more I believed that I could not be nice or productive in the morning. Ever.

That’s how I knew it was time to unlearn labeling. I still liked walking but my morning routine was not a part of my identity. It was something totally changeable. I could learn to be sharper and more organized in the morning.

As a result, I am no longer a walker, or not-a-morning person. I walk and I move slowly in the morning. It is easier to change what I do, than to change what I am.  And... I am what I do.