LIVING THE REALITY OF YOUR BEING

When I was in my 40’s struggling with being the best Mom, Nurse, Wife, Sister, Friend I could be, I thought that by my sixties (which at the time seemed very far away)  I would be satisfied with who I was.  I thought surely you get to a point in your life where you’ve worked out all of the kinks and become the person you were always striving to be.  But at 65 I’m not sure I’ve gotten to that point yet.  I feel like I have improved but not enough.  I’ve gotten wiser, but not wise enough.  The same ugly sides of me keep coming out.  I still procrastinate, I am still the shy little girl with no confidence at gatherings.  I still leave piles all over the house and hate to clean.  I’m lazy about exercise, very undisciplined. I’m inpatient with people who don’t take work as seriously as I do.  I can be a sweet, loving person but also a very stubborn, opinionated person.  I’m still a control freak.  

I have a friend whose children remember the day she said outloud “Well, like it or not this is me and I am who I am.”  And she was able to let go of all of the other me’s she wanted to be.  She consciously decided she was going to just be herself, warts and all and enjoy the rest of her life just being who she was.  

Now that friend happened to be a very beautiful, kind, compassionate person so I thought of course you can just be who you are, you’re already great.  However I had a co-worker once who said the same thing to me.  “Like it or not this is me and I am who I am.  I’m not going to change for anyone.”  Well, the problem with this is that she was NOT a nice person.  She could be very mean to her co-workers.  She was lazy and she had a mouth on her that never failed to offend people.  She figured that it was their fault not hers if they were offended by her.  So I thought “No, you can’t be like this.  You do have to make more of an effort.”  

But really what’s the difference between the two?  They are both about the same age and they both felt that they were now old enough to just stop trying to change who they were.  I truly believe there must be a point in your life when you should be able to do that.  And yet .   .  . and yet I also feel like we should always strive to grow and better ourselves.  But I’m getting tired.  I’m getting tired of always feeling guilty for my faults.  Surely at some point in my life I should be able to stop feeling bad about how I turned out and accept myself for who I am.   But when is that point? 

I keep going back to the time I shaved my head when the Cubs won the world series and for those few months it took to grow my hair back I didn’t care about my looks.  I spent no time in front of the mirror every morning because there wasn’t much I could do.  What was I going to do?  Shine my head?  It was such a liberating time!  I finally, after 50 some years felt free from everyone’s expectations of what I would or should look like.  Can I capture that same feeling regarding my inner self?  To feel that kind of liberation from the worry of not being who I think I should be!  Wouldn’t that be wonderful!  

Looking back to my childhood I always had friends and was never bullied in grade school.  Although not an “athlete” I was athletic enough to be one of the first picks for teams in the school yard pick.  I could hold my own in dodge ball and didn’t have any physical characteristic so strong that caused others to make fun of me.  I was shy and quiet so never made the mistake of saying something stupid simply because I wasn’t saying much of anything.  I felt bad for kids that were bullied and made fun of - Mary who was very heavy and always last to be picked and even then chosen with angst that the team got stuck with her, Raymond who was an only child with a divorced parent when divorces were rare and got the attention he needed by misbehaving, Veronica who was called names on the bus because of her severe acne.  I never joined in on the teasing and bullying but I never tried to stop it and never befriended these kids for fear that I would then be teased.  Back in our day no one talked to us about bullying, no one made any attempt to teach us how to stop it.  We just knew it existed and hoped it would never befall us.  

For various reasons I went to six different schools from Kindergarten through High School and every time I changed schools I entered with trepidation - would I  be teased, would I be bullied, would I find any friends, would I ever feel like I belonged.  I acted the way I thought I should act in order to gain friends quickly and avoid being bullied as the new girl. I was lucky and the transitions usually went smoothly and although I always made friends early on, I never felt like I belonged.  Every class that I was ever a part of had a large group of children in it who had been in school with each other since Kindergarten and shared a history that I would never share.  I don’t think there is anything lonelier than being among a group of people and feeling alone.  While reading through the very early years of my journal I often am exclaiming that "no one understands me”, “I just want someone in my life who gets me”, “why do I feel so very different than everyone else?” 

In addition I felt like I was the black sheep of my family being number three of four children.  I challenged my parents more often than the others to the point where it became a family joke.  At my wedding my father walked me down the aisle and passed me off to my husband to be and said “No give backs.”  It was, of course, a joke but there was a modicum of truth. 

That sense of not belonging persisted throughout my adult years.  Whether it was with the group of school parents, my co-workers or my paddling club it was always the same. I had this sense of being on the outside looking in.   My core belief was “I don’t belong”.  My brain only paid attention to the evidence that supported that belief.  Even if the majority of my experiences were ones where I felt part of the group, I gave more weight and paid more attention to the one interaction where I felt I didn’t belong.  I was an outsider for such a big part of my life that it was the role I chose for the rest of my life. It may not have been the role I wanted or that was true, but it was familiar.  In my younger years I never had unconditional self acceptance and I have always relied on external forces for validation.  If I could have felt worthy on my own the feeling of not belonging probably would not have hurt so much.  

I have a sign in my den that says “In My World, I’m Normal” because to this day I feel different.  The distinction now, in my oh so wise years, is that I can see my connection to others and know that everyone struggles and has difficult times and after so many years of self doubt I truly believe I am loved, I am worthy, and although I can and believe whole heartedly that I should continue to try to improve, I don’t have to be anyone else but myself.

And that feels good!