Who are you?

I was in the supermarket the other day, loading my stuff into those lovely hessian bags that Tesco sell instead of disposable one and the lady on the checkout commented on my packing.  It was an offhand comment - amusing enough and a nice bit of customer relations - but it stopped me in my tracks and made me think about what I was doing.  I was, very carefully, loading everything into the back like it was some kind of Tesco tetris.  

I never used to load bags like that - everything got chucked in as it came off the conveyor belt, in any old order; I pack that way because that’s the way an ex used to pack.  I started to think about this a bit more and noticed something interesting: I recycle pretty much all of my packaging because that’s what another ex used to do.  I have phrases that I use which are directly from former girlfriends.  Thinking about it more made me realise that it’s not just former girlfriends.  There are things I do, things I say, that I can attribute to specific friends - I’ve picked them up, consciously or subconsciously, over the years.  

Which started me wondering: are these things “me” or are they things that accrete gradually over the years, masking “me?” Or do they eventually become “me” through sustained usage?  Perhaps this pattern goes all the way back to when I was born, picking up the habits and practices of my parents and sister before I was even conscious of it.  If that’s the case, is “me” - or “you” for that matter - just the sum of all the individual transactions and relationships that we’ve had over the years? Is there even a “me?”

At this point, the lady on the checkout reminded me that she had other customers to serve and that I was holding everyone up.  But it makes you think, doesn’t it? Or is that just “me” - whoever that is...