Lately, I’m not entirely sure I know who I am anymore. And that, that is not such a bad thing.
When I look in the mirror, most of the time these days, I think — hmmm, that’s a pretty nice looking reflection. I feel like I’ve grown into my face, my body, and it looks like me. And, that, oddly enough to me, feels like enough.
And my thoughts, well, they aren’t as neurotic as they used to be. When I do have a thought that I might categorize as a “bad body thought” it tends to dissipate quickly, floating off into the atmosphere, rather than hanging around, bouncing, fed by other similar thoughts.
It’s times like these when I wonder, “When did I become this person who isn’t so neurotic?”
And the answer is, it took time. And conscious effort. And plenty of deep breathing. And observing. And more time. And, when I wasn’t looking, there I was.
I don’t harbor the illusion that I’ll always be this way. Things will happen that will throw me out of whack. But here I am, 42 years old, and pretty well situated in the more or less calm seat.
So, for me, it got better. Sometime toward the end of 2010, I realized that when I look at the amount of time I was really miserable, and the rest of the time, the worst of it was about 1/4 of my life, and that about 3/4 of my life has been much, much better than that. Somehow, that put things in perspective, that the time when I was tormented, felt helpless and hopeless was contained, and that while life hasn’t been easy since then, it’s certainly been better.
I’m liking this person I’m getting to know. She’s relaxed, and easy to hang out with. She’s funny and bright, and not as likely to project her problems onto other people. When someone is being a jerk, she knows it’s not about her. I think we’re going to get along well. And as she changes, well, I’ll be curious to see how she turns out as she grows.