Becoming

Becoming who I already was took me 43 years. It wasn’t even that I was searching – I just happened upon her one day. It was as if she had been waiting patiently for me to reach this destination; she welcomed me without fanfare or celebration, just a gentle nod and brief acknowledgement – like arriving home on any given day to be greeted with “Oh hi, you’re home…how was your day?”

This familiarness nearly reduced me to tears because if affirmed in my mind that I belonged. I wouldn’t have to do any explaining, or worse, convincing, to guarantee my acceptance. The questions that were posed, however, were “Where had she been until now?” and “Why hadn’t she said/done something earlier?”, but most importantly “Why did it take so long to finally realize who I had been all along?”

So how did she find me? She was cleverly disguised as a mother, a writer, a runner, a computer programmer and wife. She lived inside my head, watching my life from within, and waiting for the perfect opportunity to emerge, to show her smiling face to the one who had almost forgotten how. It came unexpectedly, a sudden realization that this was not how she wanted to continue, and then becoming conscious of the difficult decisions that would follow and the guidance that would be required.

I can only surmise, and draw from my own thoughts and opinions, which has become my modus operandi in this series of self-revelations, that I wasn’t ready and would not have recognized her before now. I think that maybe we are only dealt what we can safely cope with, and even when we think we feel completely overwhelmed, somehow it is still manageable.

She has become a close friend to me. I like her. She laughs more than she ever used to, her thoughts are clearer, and she now understands and accepts who she really is, instead of burying it in the depths of the emotional closet. She is a beautiful person who I am very proud to know. And I can confidently state that she will be here for some time to come.