I’m sipping my second coffee and smiling. It’s a lovely morning. I woke from a strange (and amusing) dream that had been influenced by recent videos my Traveling Partner and I had watched together. He made an appearance in my dream. We laughed together over coffee when I shared the details (and did a fairly good impression of my partner’s “exasperated-still-loving-you” tone). It was a wonderful start to the morning just to share conversation and coffee together. 🙂 Ordinary stuff – but so so sweet.
…Don’t forget to enjoy the small things; sometimes they matter most.
The morning is still dark. The weather is relatively mild (especially so for January, but, you know, the climate is changing). I look over my “to-do list” for tasks I may have been dodging – maybe get one or two of those done today? I smile softly to myself. Mornings like this make everything that follows feel easy.
I pause my writing to do a bit of travel research I’d promised to take care of for my partner.
I glance at the time as I hit send on the email… already time to begin again. 😀
I am sipping my coffee and… yeah, just sitting here quietly, sipping my coffee as the minutes tick by gently. It’s pleasant and easy on my consciousness. Feels nice. I’m not pushing hard in any particular direction. I’m not trying to provoke suitably shareworthy words, or insightful thoughts. I’m just… being. Nice morning for it. I’m not specifically meditating. I’m also not not meditating. I am simply sitting here quietly with my coffee. Well, I was. Now I’m writing about that moment. lol
One of the things I’ve been wrestling with internally, for the last week particularly and also since I destroyed 20 years of pen & ink journals, is the question of “who am I?” or, more particularly, to narrow that grand question down a bit, who am I when I’m alone – the “real me”, the me that is mostly truly me, without the add-ons of external inputs, fears & doubts, insecurity in my relationships or professional role… the real actual me person that I am because this is who I have chosen to become over time. My “me”. How I see myself. As near as I can get to an understanding of this self that I am, and the woman I most want to be… without regard to what anyone else thinks about me – or her. It’s a surprisingly difficult exercise in self-reflection. It “feels important” right now.
…I’ve been through some shit over the course of a lifetime. A lot of it has “changed me”…but now I’m wondering what does that really mean? Changed how? Some of the changes that trauma makes on a human being, in addition to being “lasting” changes, could be described as “involuntary”, and potentially “undesirable” – what does that mean for “who I am” – or who I want to be? What parts of me aren’t “really me” or feels as though they “aren’t mine”? How much of me is me, and how much of me is “chaos and damage” and evidence of lasting trauma? Is that a fair question to ask – and what does the answer even mean? Yeah, I find myself going deep on this one. Not sure why it keeps coming back to me among all the many things upon which I could choose to reflect, but there it is. I want to understand this better.
Why should anyone at all – or any event – have more say over who I am than I do myself?
I think about it awhile longer. I don’t have any answers today. It’s just a Friday morning and a good cup of coffee in a quiet place. Seems a worthy opportunity to reflect on this journey of self.
I glance at the time. This doesn’t end here…but it is time to begin again.
Thinking about a question of perspective, of sorts. I occasionally have experiences where it is clear that the understanding of me held by the person I am interacting with is very much not at all consistent with how I understand myself. I often wonder how that comes to be, and whether it is their misunderstanding (of me) causing the mischief or my own potential lack of awareness of how I present myself: how my behavior is received, and how the words I say are understood. Are they “speaking with a golem” of the woman I actually am that stands somehow between us? Is it me? Am I so thoroughly lacking in understanding of my words and actions in a practical way? Is it both? Neither?
…Am I the woman I understand myself to be, and if so, is that true only when I am alone, or also when I am interacting with others? If I am not she… who the hell am I? A construct of the expectations and assumptions of others? That doesn’t seem quite right to me, so I keep thinking about it…
I think about it during the commute to the office. I think about it over my morning coffee. I think about it while I bite my nails. I think about it as I walk down the hall to a meeting. I think about it in the break room. I think about it at my desk while I work.
I think about this question now and then – and today is definitely one of those times. I think about it without gaining wisdom or coming to some sort of reliable conclusion. I think about it…
It’s evening. Quiet. Chill. My Traveling Partner is working on a project in another room. I’m listening to tunes and relaxing. Nothing much going on. The stress of the morning seems long ago. Distant emotionally. I’m okay. I knew then that I would be although I couldn’t really “feel it” in any sort of immediate way. It took a while.
Listen, this is not that unusual; it can take time to get past a difficult emotional moment. More so if you’ve got that feeling paired to some trauma in your past, or if you’re an “emotional wreck” still trying to sort out who you really are, or if you’ve survived some types of head trauma, or if you’re sick… we don’t all bounce back fast. We don’t all bounce back easily. That’s just real. Cut yourself (and each other) some slack. We’re human. Each having our own experience. It’s gotta at least be emotionally safe to be your own best friend, to “be there” for yourself. It has to be okay to give yourself time to course-correct, and get past that moment and on to the next. It’ll pass. Let it.
…If it’s “not you”? I still say it’ll pass. I still plead with you to let it. Just that. Yield to the passage of time and let your own bullshit – and theirs – go. Let it go. Breathe. Exhale. Relax.
Still sucks to deal with though, right? I know. Get used to that shit. Welcome to humanity. Welcome to adulthood. This journey is the most “important” one of your life… and there’s no fucking map. lol. I’d maybe be careful about calling any one point a destination, too. Easiest to let the journey be the destination, and accept that “the way out is through” – more often than not. Pick a theme song, turn that sucker up loud, and enjoy the ride.
I’m sipping my coffee and thinking about a question. “How do I actually change my perspective?” The colleague who asked the question wasn’t being flippant or obtuse, and the context was work we were doing together. Sincere question. I was stalled for a moment, because for me the answer is ludicrously practical; make a literal change in the angle of view, or distance from which something is observed, or… I think you get it? Something as simple as standing on a chair to see something a different way, or looking out a different window to capture a different view… right?
Looking out one window of the office, onto a city I’ve known for 42 years.
We continued the conversation as we walked to the break area for coffee. We looked out other windows, still talking about how to shift perspective, metaphorically and for real.
Maybe it’s only been 22 years? Depends on what years “count”, doesn’t it?
Different window, different views… same city. So, different perspectives on this one place. Handy to have a real-life demonstration available. Lovely morning for it. We get pretty easily locked into a point of view, or some very specific limited understanding of the world or our circumstances based on our perspective. Being able to shift our perspective and “see things another way” really matters for things like communicating with others, being compassionate, and effective problem-solving that presents an inclusive solution to a problem that affects many different groups. We’re not a homogenous mass of flesh all of one mind; we’re individuals.
There are so many ways to look at something.
I sip my coffee and consider my perspective – then and now. Even those differences can provide new perspective. I certainly don’t see the world quite the same way I did when I was a woman in my 20s, 30s, or 40s. Time passed. I experienced more of what the world had to offer, and learned and grew through my experiences and decision-making. It doesn’t take standing on a chair, or looking out a 10th floor window, to take advantage of this mortal lifetime to reflect on changes in perspective. It’s hard not to change one’s perspective. How much effort do people have to put into to clinging to a poor understanding of an event, or a mistaken assumption, or limited perspective to “stand still” and “never change”?
It may be as easy as a chair or looking out a different window, or asking a new question of the person in the mirror. Change is. Our perspective easily shifts with our changes – if we allow it, and take notice. The trickier bit, I guess, is constructively changing our perspective to give us a “better angle of view” on something we don’t necessarily experience or understand from our own circumstances.
I think on it for a while, sipping my coffee on a rainy chilly winter morning. Would my thoughts be different on a summer day?
My eye falls on my to-do list. I smile; I’ve worked the list down to just one or two inconsequential tasks, and an errand. Not bad. It won’t stay that way; I’m always adding to it and working it. It’s just a list of reminders to change something. My coffee is cold now, and I could use a manicure. It’s far too early in the morning to get a manicure; it goes onto the list. That’s how it works. LOL
…I could use another cup of coffee. It must be time to begin again.
Evening Light 