The Person I Would Be
[I haven't done Sunday Scribblings for ages. But, this week's prompt was uncannily a propos of something I'd been thinking all week.]
There's always a discord between the love you have for the person you are today and the love you have for the person you once were. Those two loves, they seemingly are at odds with each other. Each and every one of your experiences shape you, transform you -- into a different person. How can you love two things that are so very different?
I was thinking about that the other day, in the wake of my recent flashbacks. Who would I be today, if it had never happened? Who would I be today? Part of me believes that I was set up for a traumatic experience, no matter which way it went. The disempowerment, the disrespect, and the fear were built-in to the entire situation in which I'd placed myself. So, in many respects, I believe I would be the same person I am today, regardless of the ultimate outcome of that fateful day.
But, then, I wondered. What if I didn't change? What if I never stopped to think, 'There's got to be a different way'? What if I walked away that day, satisfied? Surely, I'd be a lot less traumatized. So much of my pain of the last five years has been from learning my responsibilities and learning to forgive myself for failing to meet them. If I never searched for a different way, I never would have needed to blame myself for the way it was. All that emotional toil, would be swept away by a tide of oblivion.
But so, too, the insight, and the empathy, and the capacity for forgiveness, and the desire to enact change for the better -- all would be washed away. The respect for myself, the confidence in myself, erased by a change in the fates. The patience and self-love and duty to honor -- the person I am today, lost. The person I would be? Would be, in many ways, the person I was on that day.
I love the person I am today. But, I don't hate the person I was. I love her, too. We're different, that girl and I, but happy to have known each other, for a moment, once upon a time. She was young and courageous and possessed a deep trust borne out of genuine love for other people. She smiled at the sunrise. She laughed at the moon. And she believed in innocence. The person I would be? Someone I would be proud of. But, I'd still miss me.
There's always a discord between the love you have for the person you are today and the love you have for the person you once were. Those two loves, they seemingly are at odds with each other. Each and every one of your experiences shape you, transform you -- into a different person. How can you love two things that are so very different?
I was thinking about that the other day, in the wake of my recent flashbacks. Who would I be today, if it had never happened? Who would I be today? Part of me believes that I was set up for a traumatic experience, no matter which way it went. The disempowerment, the disrespect, and the fear were built-in to the entire situation in which I'd placed myself. So, in many respects, I believe I would be the same person I am today, regardless of the ultimate outcome of that fateful day.
But, then, I wondered. What if I didn't change? What if I never stopped to think, 'There's got to be a different way'? What if I walked away that day, satisfied? Surely, I'd be a lot less traumatized. So much of my pain of the last five years has been from learning my responsibilities and learning to forgive myself for failing to meet them. If I never searched for a different way, I never would have needed to blame myself for the way it was. All that emotional toil, would be swept away by a tide of oblivion.
But so, too, the insight, and the empathy, and the capacity for forgiveness, and the desire to enact change for the better -- all would be washed away. The respect for myself, the confidence in myself, erased by a change in the fates. The patience and self-love and duty to honor -- the person I am today, lost. The person I would be? Would be, in many ways, the person I was on that day.
I love the person I am today. But, I don't hate the person I was. I love her, too. We're different, that girl and I, but happy to have known each other, for a moment, once upon a time. She was young and courageous and possessed a deep trust borne out of genuine love for other people. She smiled at the sunrise. She laughed at the moon. And she believed in innocence. The person I would be? Someone I would be proud of. But, I'd still miss me.
posted by Kristy | 8/04/2006 02:37:00 PM
9 Comments:
I've share similar thoughts and feelings, Kristy. There are experiences in my life that I would pray no one ever know / experience. Most certainly not someone I love. Still, I am accepting if not comfortable with those experiences because they have shaped the person I am today and, while I still have a lot of room for growth, I wouldn't change who I am.
Excellent points here - I've written along a similar vein before, about looking back at the person I was and feeling tenderness, not shame. Because I was living my life with curiosity and an open heart. Yes mistakes were made and I'm wiser and stronger today. But I wouldn't trade those years - they contributed to who I am today. Lovely post.
Sounds like you have found your place! I love your blog skin ... will come back to explore later. ; )
Smooch,
The Tart
; )
You are the person you are today because of her, that girl who was so different back then. And all those wonderful things you say about her at the end of your post, they are part of you, too. I do not know the nature of your traumatic experience but it seems to me that you have definitely grown from it, into a person more whole and insightful then perhaps you would have been otherwise.
Excellent post, very well written :)
I really like this take on the prompt. Unique, and insightful.
Kristy, your experience reminds me of mine with my miscarriages; I became a sort of counsellor to women who'd miscarried or who feared miscarriage, just the way you decided to become a doula. From our pain we found reserves of empathy and a way to help other women. Of course I can't say I'm glad I had my miscarriages; but I'm way past regretting them too. That's why, when I speak of Nigel, it's okay; Nigel gave a gift to me and to many other women.
Kristy, I think the fact that you took something that was traumatic for you and turned it into a passion speaks to the whole you: who you were and who you are. The outlook might be different now, but I'm willing to bet it's the same heart. :)
Have you read Gayle Peterson? http://www.askdrgayle.com/qa377.htm
Hugging you and hearing you.
What a lovely post. I love the way you talk about your former self--there's such love and respect. Interesting and thought-provoking.
jb
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