I find myself facing questions that I’ve never before taken the time to consider. Living life head-on, with a career, children, extended family and the roles and responsibilities of keeping everyone healthy and safe yielded little space for deep pondering. I was surviving. Full speed all day, numbing with alcohol in the evening. I had neither the courage or capacity to ask existential questions of myself, or others.
I admit that in my late 40’s I would often look in the mirror and ask the reflection why I was abusing myself with booze. I would tell the woman looking back at me that it was because I was an alcoholic. With loathing and tears, I would turn from the mirror, knowing I was too deeply mired in the pattern to change. Until I finally did. That’s a story for another time.
Now I have a clear mind, rampant curiousity and a fearless quest to know myself. The desire to maximize my experience on this earth is insatiable. I vow each day not to be limited by the threats and headwinds of age, politics and insecurity. Each day is a lesson in blending current realities with pushing boundaries.
To understand and negotiate my life, I believe the question is not “who” am I, but rather “what am I?” Asking “who” immediately reveals my name, gender, age, and primary roles of wife, mother, career credentials, and other uninteresting labels. It doesn’t get to my essence; my intrinsic, hard-wired nature. The one that many consider the authentic self. The one that shows when no one is looking.
There are many tools and ways to get to that level of exploration, if you are willing. Addressing the “what” of my being has been helpful for me in understanding what brings me joy, what I need, and what disturbs me. Doing work in recovery opened my mind, erased my secrets and called bullshit on beliefs that held me back.
This is what I now know for sure: I am a source of emotional, physical, creative and spiritual energy. I share these reserves with loved ones, acquaintances, animals, lined pages, blank canvases, empty pots, and all things in the outdoors. When my energies are depleted, I need rest and solitude.
It’s been a busy weekend. With my husband away, I enjoyed a rare few days of solitude. As the large green SUV lumbered up the driveway in the dusk of Friday evening, I said goodbye to the freedom and quiet of being alone. I was handed a car seat full of a crying baby, while the three-year-old clamoured to be picked up. Now instead of two, there were three mid-sized dogs weaving in between the grownups, little boys, and bags of clothes, diapers, bed bumpers, snow suits and baby paraphernalia. Everyone needed to be fed immediately.
The weekend continued at an unrelenting pace, marked by eating, kitchen cleanup, blocks and playdough, outdoor play, skiing, and bedtime challenges. As the dog dish full of water was once again emptied onto the floor by our crawler, and the three-year-old announced he wouldn’t eat the casserole dinner, he wanted mango and ice cream, and now four dogs (another grand dog came for a play date), hovered under the table and around the high chair, I began to giggle. It was contagious, and soon laughter replaced tension and tempers.
We made it through dinner, and all was quiet by 9 pm. With nothing left to give, I was off to my quiet bedroom with only two dogs, a closed and locked door, and my book. There was a time when I wouldn’t let myself check out. My mind and body would continue to race on adrenaline, guilt, and an inability to give myself permission to rest.
The gifts of age, humility and self-discovery carried me through a weekend of open-hearted hugs, laughs and pandemonium. I wouldn’t have it any other way.