Lately I've been thinking about how I've changed throughout the course of my life. Some of the changes have been a good thing, and some of the changes have just made things more complicated.
I am far less insecure than I used to be. For the most part, I am pretty happy with myself. I used to spend an inordinate amount of time wondering what various people thought of me. Now, I don't care so much. I've gotten to the point where I first wonder, "What do I really think of so-and-so?" instead of, " Does so-and-so think I'm cool/nice/fill in the adjective?" When I do have moments when the 2nd question precedes the 1st, I am usually pretty quick to catch myself and turn things around.
I still stew alot, though, if I have hurt or think I've hurt someone's feelings, which probably relates a bit to the previous paragraph. That doesn't mean I apologize. I might beat myself up reliving the hurt feeling event, but I generally come to the conclusion that what I did or said what was best for myself/my kids/my situation.
For awhile I had gotten to where I worried less about money, but this economy has me a bit stressed. It is increasingly hard to save money...or enough money as I'd like to save to feel secure.
Of course, having my kids has changed me a lot. I always knew I wanted to get married, but I never thought much about having children. I was never a person who ooohed and aaahed over babies. I'm still not into babies (except my own babies). Having children was never a big deal, a big goal for me. But having my children made me wonder if those years weren't just a big case of "the lady protesting too much." Because it still puzzles me that I went from being uncertain whether I wanted any children to wanting 3.
Inside, I feel like a combo of who I was at 16, who I was at 22 and who I am at 35. At 16, I felt on top of my game....confident, a leader, a person with lots of energy and friends and interests. At 22, I felt jaded, artistic, unsure of anything I wanted or needed, desperately in need of direction. And how I feel at 35...a little more wise, a lot more tired.
It makes me wonder if I will always carry these young "versions" of myself as I age. And one day look in the mirror and think, "Who is that old lady looking back at me?"
1 comment:
This reminds me of a story I read for the AP English exam in high school. By Sandra Cisneros (sp? I'm too lazy to look it up.) I think. It was told from the perspective of a still young girl but she talked about feeling all her past ages rolling around inside her like marbles in an empty band aid tin.
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