This content has been archived. It may no longer be relevant

Photo Courtesy of Art Fuller

Yesterday I saw the play, “Becoming Dr. Ruth”.  It was my birthday and it brought forth thoughts about my own process of becoming the person I am today.

I have lived through many phases, fads, passions and even obsessions, as well as illusions. I certainly have had my share of turbulence and trials.  I imagine you have too.

I am not the little girl with pigtails in a peach-colored dress, in one of my father’s photos.  I am not the child my very disturbed (in retrospect) teacher in 5th and 6th grade described as needing to come out of her shell, and as “never even opening up her mouth to see if the spit was still there”. I am not the child who begged her cousins to get her a piece of candy from the table where the adults were congregated, because I was too shy to do it myself.  

I am not the teenager who wore out the rug in front of my bureau mirror, arranging my hair and putting on makeup. I am not the rebellious girl who was called Miss Contrary by my parents.

I am not the adoring Auntie who saved the money earned by babysitting in order to buy gifts for my little nephew, but who rarely spent a penny on myself.   I am not the teen who rocked and comforted the nephew after President Kennedy was killed, when that little kindergartner said he didn’t think he wanted to  grow up in an awful world like the one in which something so terrible could happen.  I am not the teenager who told him, and who then believed, that everything would be all right in the world, that nothing like this would happen again, and he didn’t need to be afraid,

I am not the girl who delighted in being mysterious and unpredictable,for the sole purpose of confusing young men who were enamored of me.  I am not the student who complained during my interview at my top choice of colleges, that they had not read my portfolio of writing and, when they said it wasn’t necessary for admission there, I stated that unless they read it to get a better picture of who I was, I would refuse to attend the school.

I am not the young mother who was planning to home school her kids, (but never did) who resolved before the first one was born that my children would never  watch TV, and who didn’t allow junk food ever. I am not the naive youthful wife who thought every marriage had to be perfect all the time, or it meant you didn’t love each other enough.  I am not the young woman who thought I could be all to everyone and not suffer for it.

I am not the young adult who needed to live far away from my family of origin and to always do things my own way, the hardest way possible, over and over, in order to make a statement. I am not the young poet who thought everyone was waiting eagerly to read every word I ever wrote.  I am not the naive Feminist who thought you just had to seize what you wanted and there would be no consequences or changes.  I am not the idealist who thought putting yourself on the line for the causes in which you believed would be enough to convince others to treat everyone equally, humanely and with justice.

On the other hand, I know better now who I really am.  I know now that I am strong. I am a survivor. I know that no matter how hard you try, you will not be perfect and that perfection isn’t necessarily a healthy goal for which to strive. I know that when I am true to myself and kind to others, I can and do influence people.  I may not change the world in a huge way, but I know I have made an impact, and have changed little bits and pieces of it.

I know that shyness for me was a cover-up for not feeling “good enough” and I don’t really need that cloak anymore. I know that no matter how hard you try, sometimes you don’t get what you think you should, or what you feel others should,  but you gain something and learn things in the process.  I know that you can’t set the world right by comforting and protecting people you love, or by lying to them, and that bad things happen.  Still, there are so many beautiful things that also surround us, that we must learn to notice, to taste, to touch and to be thankful for every minute. I am, finally, secure in my beliefs and values and don’t need to argue incessantly with others to prove them to anyone. I have learned that some things never stop being important enough to stand up for.

I know that I don’t have to exhaust myself by being mysterious and that, just as my mother and grandmother always told me, beauty is only skin-deep and we don’t retain the blush of youth or the figures of our youth when we are in our sixties. It has taken me a while to get to the place where I’m ok with that. That doesn’t mean I give up, or don’t try to be healthy and to look my best, but I don’t long to be who I used to be either.

I know that we can’t  always make the hurts of the real world disappear for our children, or for ourselves, because things happen in life. Some of them are wonderful and some are tragic and terribly painful, but we can and do emerge if we have faith and trust. Some of us trust in a Higher Power, but we must also trust in ourselves and trust in nature and the fact that new life always emerges after hard winters. I understand fully when two friends of mine, a couple who have each gotten through multiple medical challenges, says they wake up each morning so happy and grateful to be alive, and able to enjoy life.

What about you? Think about the process you have gone through to become just who you are today?  Think of the old you and the new you without judgment.  What has changed? What has seasoned you and taught you? What has shaped you? What are you grateful for today that you did not know enough to be grateful for in the past? I would love for you to share your thoughts on this blog!