It's the end of another school year and here I am, trying to collect all my thoughts. It feels, at the moment, a bit like herding chickens or cats or whatever the common phrase is. Regardless of the uncooperative animal, I don't fully have this situation under control. And that is not a comfortable feeling for me.
So much has changed, so much is going to continue to change over the next few months. Our kids are starting jobs, starting sports teams, starting kindergarten, starting middle school, starting to swim. I just finished my first full year as a LCSW. We are hoping for a few other major changes in our family in the next few months. Hoping for good news.
My kids are not little anymore. Even Damir, the baby, is big and brilliant and beautiful.
They're all changing and growing and adventuring. But it sort of feels like I am not.
Donald Miller wrote about this. About how this is when we give up on our stories. When all the "big" milestones are in the rearview mirror and the coast on either side is out of sight. You're just rowing. And rowing. This is when we give up.
But I don't want to give up. I have my family and my husband and my career and my degrees and my home. I don't need to, or want to, change any of those things. The distinct sense I have though is that in the last 12 years, despite making monumental personal progress in my career and growing my family, I have lost myself.
I think there are folks who say we can't lose ourselves. I'd imagine they're optimistically positioned, claiming we are not a "thing" to be misplaced. So perhaps lost is not the word.
Yesterday I watched a teaser trailer with Judah for Moana 2. The trailer begins with a crab in a shell that is seemingly too small. And little crab turns and finds a bigger shell just to her left, but then comes Maui. Who replaces the bigger shell with an even bigger, more beautiful shell.
Maybe I haven't lost myself. Or done anything wrong. Except outgrown my own shell a bit.
I'm not sure I love this metaphor either because there are so many parts of my life I have absolutely not outgrown. I have not outgrown being a wife or a mother or a therapist. But those three pieces of my identity have been all there is for years. And years.
Could this imagery, this metaphor, of a new shell mean I am these things ... And also other things? Am I allowed to be interesting and complex? Am I allowed to be new?
My imagery for transformation used to be the butterfly. But this doesn't ring true for me anymore because there's only one major transformative period for a butterfly. The caterpillar does not transform more than once.
And I just keep changing. Not necessarily in obvious ways. Or ways I'm proud of. Not always on purpose.
But part of the issue, when you lose your sense of self or your identity, is knowing what to do next.
How do you pick a new shell? Or re-build yourself?
How do you even know how to find new things to love? What do I even enjoy anymore?
This dilemma has penetrated every single aspect of my life. From my career to my appearance to my health to my hobbies. This is why sometimes it feels more like "lost" than anything else because I feel pretty empty handed. I'm over here contemplating bangs.
It's not rubble. I'm not staring at anything destroyed. The life I have built is beautiful. But is it enough?
So is it renovation? Is it restoration?
What's the fucking metaphor here!
I've been desperately struggling with my weight since I started working at an elementary school.
I have no excuse. I know how to eat healthy. I have a gym in my garage.
This year I made new friends at work who share my values of physical movement and health and I am so grateful.
Something clicked yesterday though. And to be honest I feel like an idiot. I know better.
I have not been progressing.
Because I hadn't been trying to progress.
So last night I went down to the garage. And I turned up the music. And I found my 1 rep max on each of my big lifts. I ended up working out for an hour and breaking an ungodly sweat because, guess what I hadn't been doing for probably over a year? Working that hard.
I had been expecting progress where I wasn't putting in the work.
But I don't want to just be a mother, wife, therapist and.... Exerciser? Even though I am slowly coming to terms with how much work it is going to take to make sure I am not sitting solely on my ass at 50. Maintenance is a bitch. But what else?
Do I write again? Do I pick my camera back up? Do I cook? I don't even know what my options are. Half of the time, my brain is so scrambled I cannot even read. I've tried. But it's a true ebb and flow pattern over here.
Do I cover myself in tattoos and buy new clothes? Do I learn how to plant flowers?
Is my brain capable of learning how to play the piano like my sister?
Do I need to crochet? Paint by number? Become a yoga instructor?
Like what the actual fuck do I do now.
Is "doing" even the answer?
I've done a lot of healing and learning over the years. I know I am not who I was. But is growth always the only goal? What about enjoyment? Is it true there's is nothing lost or broken or bad about me and that, maybe, life can just be lived right now? In addition to all of this, I struggle with imposter syndrome, so especially in areas like my career... I might even stunt myself because despite how much experience I have and how much I do know, I doubt my ability and don't share it. This shows up in my "try hard" because what if I am terrible at anything I try. I have not ever allowed myself that freedom.
I told a few friends not too long ago that I am just thinking about being in a body of water and just floating. On a paddleboard. On a float in the pool. I don't even know beyond that what would bring me more joy. Feasibly anyway. Because please teleport me to New England to eat lobster or the Pacific Northwest to see the whales.
It would be unfair not to mention that I have tried very few of the aforementioned hobbies (see: imposter syndrome). And so, it may also be true in this area of my life that I am expecting progress or answers, where I am not putting in effort.
If you see me with bangs or practicing headstands in the park, just let me live, ok?
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