Is it possible to miss yourself? I feel I am two people: The me I am to other people, and the real me, the one I keep hidden sometimes, the one I show only to those whom I trust. At some point last year, I parted ways with my real self. I didn’t realize it at the time; I just lost touch with myself. I was too busy, too weighed down with work, with the accident and the subsequent medical issues…I simply lost touch with that person.
I feel I have spent much of the past year in a foggy existence, dreading Mondays, catching colds, playing a role, worrying someone would see my fear, my insecurity, my inexperience. I lost touch with my friends. I became crabby and irritable. I laughed less.
There were good times, though. There are always good times. Spending time with Jesse, visiting family, playing with my cat.
But this morning I realized that I was becoming myself again. I started to recognize that part of me I had forgotten this past year. This process began a little before the end of the school year. I started to talk to my friends again. I read a book. I laughed more. I started caring less about whether I was doing a good job at work and more about whether I was enjoying my life. I had hope: I was going to grad school, I was going to get out of my job, I was going to get back to what I love doing.
Yesterday I was reminded about an Engrish poster I got in Japan with my friend Marianne. I adored this poster as soon as I saw it. It’s just a small, gray piece of plastic, with gray and white writing that says, “This is your own future! That means you yourself are going there. Choose your own way!” I left the store without it, then knew that I would regret not buying it. I told Marianne to wait for me, then slipped back in the store and purchased the poster. Marianne laughed when she realized what I was doing.
I don’t think anyone understands why I like it so much–it’s just another piece of Engrish, just another little souvenir from my trip. But to me, it means so much more than that. It is bold and profound: Choose your own way. How many times do we just let life happen? How many decisions do we make at random? Do we take time to dream? Do we dream big? Our futures are ours. And that means we will have to live them out. Are we taking the time to consider that the choices we make today affect our tomorrows? Are we happy? Are we choosing happiness? Of course I direct these questions primarily to myself.
I don’t believe that we have complete control over our futures, our lives, over anything really. But I do believe that we are agents in the outcomes of our lives. Things will happen that we will not choose. I did not choose to have a truck slam into my car and push us into a Hummer, obviously. But I do have choices, and I can settle for taking life as it comes, or I can choose to dream big.
Thoreau said, “Go confidently in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you have imagined.” I see that quote on coffee mugs and magnets all the time, and even though it’s overused and is quickly becoming just another quippy saying we tell each other in empty pep talks, I still feel a shiver of possibility when I read it. I want to do that–to go confidently in the direction of my dreams. This is my future! That means I myself am going there.
How does this relate to losing touch with myself this past year? I think last year I felt stuck–I felt that I was living a life I didn’t like, a life I didn’t enjoy. I don’t regret this past year. I don’t regret taking that job. I think I learned many valuable lessons that I wouldn’t have otherwise. I have many stories and experiences from this past year that are important to me. But I wasn’t going in the direction of my dreams. Now I am dreaming again, and I am doing something about it. I don’t know where this will take me. Maybe I’ll fail miserably. Maybe my dream will die. Well, then I’ll just have to find another dream.
I found another quote while looking for the precise wording of the Thoreau quote. Charles du Bois said, “The important thing is this: To be able at any moment to sacrifice what we are for what we could become.” I feel I am hanging in the balance of this concept: I’ve given up the security of a stable income; I’ve given up a place where I know all the back roads; I’ve given up proximity to a support system of friends and family. Now I am waiting for what comes next. What will I become?
All I know right now is that I am living my life. I am living my life. I am not counting days. I am living my life in the present tense. There are trees outside the window in my kitchen and at the right time of day, the green, star-like leaves are gently outlined in sunlight. I drive smiling and with the radio turned up. I am coming to the clearing of myself.
