People can't grow wings.
We look the same as we age, just maybe a little softer around the edges, maybe we fade a bit.
But that's just the outside, though. The most substantial part of people is the inside stuff. All kinds of things can happen in the soul parts.
For me, the year I turned 21 was a moment in time I look back on as a chrysalis in my life. I was pretty colorful before that I think- a topic for other days- but that was the year I stopped crawling around as usual, took stock of my surroundings, the season, and the direction of the wind, sunk into myself awhile, and emerged at the end of the year an altogether different creature.
It was the year I grew my inside wings.
That was the year I learned to Take Things On. It was the year I became suddenly aware, like a new butterfly finally rising above it's old leaf to see the wide horizons, of the wider world around me and my little place in it. The year I figured out what mattered to me, and what kind of me I wanted to become, the year I Grew Up.
I found that I had strength; not just one kind, but many, and that I could Do Things. I could take steps and get to where I wanted to go, all on my own. That year I felt that the world and life were huge and limitless, and so was I. The year I turned 21 I broke out of the cocoon and took off into life knowing that I Can.
Since then, in my own small way, I have made a point of flying towards the things that matter most to me, and while I have made mistakes sometimes, and sacrificed some things for others, I have tried to lean into the wind, to take opportunities before they pass by, to do my best, operating under the assumption that I Can.
A decade later, it's been another defining year for me. That last year, we lost six close family members, and our dog. We had some major unexpected financial blows. I became a working mom- and a full-time, at-home mom- at the same time, and J took on the dreaded Residency. We were far from family during the year we wished most to be near them for so many reasons. Still settling in from our last move, we learned we are moving this summer to Japan- both a great adventure and a major change. I had a year of health problems including a sudden unplanned surgery right at the most demanding time of year at my job, and the Littles needed us more as there was less of us to go around.
I kept leaning into that wind, repeating at my desk at four in the morning "I Can", repeating as I raced from PTA meetings to phone conferences to the grocery store "I Can", repeating as I tried to entertain Mister during a 3 hour bank meeting followed by medical appointments and cooking dinner while J was working a 90 hour week, "I Can. I Can". I was still calling out instructions for volunteers and reminding J about piano lessons literally as I was wheeled into surgery. I spent the day I was released from the hospital framing artwork with a team of people in my basement, and twice ripped open my stitches carrying Mister as I hurried from here to there because "I Can" had become "I Must".
I woke up in 2016 and it had been a really long time since I'd written a blog post or put a photo in an album and I wanted to say something to commemorate the year. But looking back, being real and honest... I would say that if I'll always remember 21 as the year I found myself, I think I will always remember 33 as the year I found my limits.
This was the year I realized I even had limits. I've learned that I can only "I Can" until.... I can't.
So this was also the year that I learned to accept help. And, ok, to beg for it sometimes. I learned to lower my expectations (so. much. lower.) It has been the year I learned how to say "no thanks". Even when I wanted to say "yes".
I have learned that I can ignore my limitations, or I can glare at them, hating them, and there they still are. So instead of continuing to beat my wings against the glass, I am trying to take stock of my surroundings, the season, and the direction of the wind. Sink into myself for awhile. I'm not exactly sure what I will be when I come out on the other side- I'm still metamorphosing over here.
But after reviewing that last year, and looking ahead to the next one, I keep getting the feeling that whatever the answers are, they have something to do with Letting Things Go. To not have quite so much to carry.
Maybe I'll come out on the other side of this Defining Time with more streamlined wings- or without any. Maybe there will be something even better. Who knows?
If I have to grow older and stay boringly similar on the outside, at least on the inside, I can keep changing, evolving, growing...or ungrowing and getting simpler, lighter instead.
I guess it's part of the transformation that I used to never want to say openly "this is hard". But in the last two years, I have, because I had to- it was the truth. I definitely needed not to say "This is TOO hard", because that's a slippery slope into words I needed not to think, much less say outright. "I Can't". So sometimes I just didn't say anything at all. But you know. Sometimes I Can't. Sometimes I just Can't. So I think I will start this new stage in life, whatever it may be, with getting a little lighter:
I used to have this need to I Can all the time. I let it go.
We look the same as we age, just maybe a little softer around the edges, maybe we fade a bit.
But that's just the outside, though. The most substantial part of people is the inside stuff. All kinds of things can happen in the soul parts.
For me, the year I turned 21 was a moment in time I look back on as a chrysalis in my life. I was pretty colorful before that I think- a topic for other days- but that was the year I stopped crawling around as usual, took stock of my surroundings, the season, and the direction of the wind, sunk into myself awhile, and emerged at the end of the year an altogether different creature.
It was the year I grew my inside wings.
That was the year I learned to Take Things On. It was the year I became suddenly aware, like a new butterfly finally rising above it's old leaf to see the wide horizons, of the wider world around me and my little place in it. The year I figured out what mattered to me, and what kind of me I wanted to become, the year I Grew Up.
I found that I had strength; not just one kind, but many, and that I could Do Things. I could take steps and get to where I wanted to go, all on my own. That year I felt that the world and life were huge and limitless, and so was I. The year I turned 21 I broke out of the cocoon and took off into life knowing that I Can.
Since then, in my own small way, I have made a point of flying towards the things that matter most to me, and while I have made mistakes sometimes, and sacrificed some things for others, I have tried to lean into the wind, to take opportunities before they pass by, to do my best, operating under the assumption that I Can.
A decade later, it's been another defining year for me. That last year, we lost six close family members, and our dog. We had some major unexpected financial blows. I became a working mom- and a full-time, at-home mom- at the same time, and J took on the dreaded Residency. We were far from family during the year we wished most to be near them for so many reasons. Still settling in from our last move, we learned we are moving this summer to Japan- both a great adventure and a major change. I had a year of health problems including a sudden unplanned surgery right at the most demanding time of year at my job, and the Littles needed us more as there was less of us to go around.
I kept leaning into that wind, repeating at my desk at four in the morning "I Can", repeating as I raced from PTA meetings to phone conferences to the grocery store "I Can", repeating as I tried to entertain Mister during a 3 hour bank meeting followed by medical appointments and cooking dinner while J was working a 90 hour week, "I Can. I Can". I was still calling out instructions for volunteers and reminding J about piano lessons literally as I was wheeled into surgery. I spent the day I was released from the hospital framing artwork with a team of people in my basement, and twice ripped open my stitches carrying Mister as I hurried from here to there because "I Can" had become "I Must".
I woke up in 2016 and it had been a really long time since I'd written a blog post or put a photo in an album and I wanted to say something to commemorate the year. But looking back, being real and honest... I would say that if I'll always remember 21 as the year I found myself, I think I will always remember 33 as the year I found my limits.
This was the year I realized I even had limits. I've learned that I can only "I Can" until.... I can't.
So this was also the year that I learned to accept help. And, ok, to beg for it sometimes. I learned to lower my expectations (so. much. lower.) It has been the year I learned how to say "no thanks". Even when I wanted to say "yes".
I have learned that I can ignore my limitations, or I can glare at them, hating them, and there they still are. So instead of continuing to beat my wings against the glass, I am trying to take stock of my surroundings, the season, and the direction of the wind. Sink into myself for awhile. I'm not exactly sure what I will be when I come out on the other side- I'm still metamorphosing over here.
But after reviewing that last year, and looking ahead to the next one, I keep getting the feeling that whatever the answers are, they have something to do with Letting Things Go. To not have quite so much to carry.
Maybe I'll come out on the other side of this Defining Time with more streamlined wings- or without any. Maybe there will be something even better. Who knows?
If I have to grow older and stay boringly similar on the outside, at least on the inside, I can keep changing, evolving, growing...or ungrowing and getting simpler, lighter instead.
I guess it's part of the transformation that I used to never want to say openly "this is hard". But in the last two years, I have, because I had to- it was the truth. I definitely needed not to say "This is TOO hard", because that's a slippery slope into words I needed not to think, much less say outright. "I Can't". So sometimes I just didn't say anything at all. But you know. Sometimes I Can't. Sometimes I just Can't. So I think I will start this new stage in life, whatever it may be, with getting a little lighter:
I used to have this need to I Can all the time. I let it go.
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