Identity in Crisis

There is no part of my identity that I don't question on a daily basis. What am I supposed to do with that? No wonder I'm so depressed/prone to fantasy. Seriously. Even relatively straight forward identity questions I fuck up. Gender? It should be pretty close to sex unless you want a sex change. But no. Couldn't do that. What am I? I want to say something crazy cool, like third gender, or Amazonian, or gender neutral. But I'm probably just somewhere in the middle of a boring continuum that refuses to see black and white and so what's left is just a whole lot of gray.

Race? Yea, go screw yourself, because I'll never know. People also mix up cultural identity with racial identity a lot, but that's even less straightforward for me. Imagine being a completely black looking biracial person who grew up in an almost exclusively white neighborhood, half raised by an African father who was slightly more racist against African-Americans than her white mother. Then complicate things by keeping interactions with other black people, African or American, as minimal as possible, with most information coming from slight blacksploitation films and African-American predominated music genres, and presto! Instant teenage existential crisis.

Sexuality? Almost as confusing as race and culture, without the strong uncertainty. It's easy to tell when you want to have sex with someone. Far less easy to tell if you feel like you belong with a certain group of people. Age? Personality? Intelligence? I have little idea what I am and I feel like I change those small perceptions of myself a lot, too, just to make things more complicated. I know the type of person I would like to be. But there are some days when I get nowhere close to that ideal. Then there are some days when I drastically change the way I think about myself, thus changing what kinds of ideals I continue to strive for.

Like the first time I ever realized in a concrete way that I didn't give a fuck about grades.
I wonder what my day was like when I realized I was attracted to both boys and girls.
Or the first time I realized that I was a horrible person for people to talk to about their problems, but I could at least always make people laugh (I remember that day, it changed my life for the better; that day was probably one of the reasons I continued to want to go to medical school).

All these things "change" your life. But do they really? How does the way you think about yourself influence mundane, everyday activities? If my perception of myself was just a little more negative, where would I be? If my perception of myself was just a little more realistic,  would I still exist?