Reinvention

Reinvention. I don’t love this word as description for how I am experiencing my midlife. It sounds too phony, too deliberate, too “Madonna,” too male. I prefer emergence, awakening, unfolding, release and renewal. In fact, I hope to never have to “re-invent” myself again.

We moved a lot when I was a kid. I went to four different high schools in those four years of school. I learned to reinvent myself as a coping mechanism. As a way to adapt, to fit in, to get people to like me and to be less afraid. My senior year (1969) a new high school was built, and kids from all over the county were thrown together as “new” kids. I felt so comfortable that year from all the reinvention, and all those kids were scrambling so hard to be known, that I discovered myself. I was in the school plays, the swim team, my grades improved, I won awards, I made friends; I was popular.

Later, this reinvention process became a crutch. I had difficulty letting people know me. I didn’t know myself. That habit just dragged behind me like Marley’s chains. I longed for lightness. I got some therapy, did The Landmark Forum, and just started showing up every day as who I claimed to be.

At this point in my life, I am in my authentic self. The self that is clear and honest, that knows the difference between exercising good judgment and being judgmental. The self that has learned to listen, is supportive, asks for help, lets herself be really seen, keeps an open mind, but not so open that all her brains fall out, ya know?

It has crossed my mind that this “becoming” is an inward journey, an implosion of wisdom, if you will. At this point, I’m hoping against hope that the wonder of what’s going on in my heart, will balance out the wondering of what in the hell is going on with my body. Yikes!

Blogging off,
Connie