Today I have been asking myself what I would experience, how I would feel, if I were to work along side of my 20-something self, that part of me that was so filled with the spirit of the white bear. The feelings that arise are shocking, actually, because the truth is that I would feel exactly the way that I feel now working with these other young whipper snapping white bears. . . lol.
My 20-something self would roll her eyes at me, mock me (both to my face, but especially behind my back), disregard any contribution I had to make, and would treat me with great disdain as if I were invisible and no threat at all. I would not enjoy working with her, of course. I would think she was arrogant and completely full of herself. I would also think she was impetuous and irresponsible in all of the ways that mattered, especially the way she walked away from family, friends, jobs just because they were difficult or inconvenient. But I would also recall with great joy what it had once felt like to be that spirited and care free, but I wouldn't want to be that way now. I would smile at and admire her bold spirit, but I would feel grateful that I no longer embodied this overwhelming spirit of the white bear.
It's funny how time really does change us.
I haven't gone through life stages the way most of my friends have. I am basically living exactly the same life I was living when I turned 20. . . .single and free to live my life on my terms, in any way I see fit. I was married for a while, but I didn't have children, so I never really had to embrace new and emerging parts of a life progression in stages. So I think that's one of the reasons why I'm having such a hard time with this one. . . .it's a quantum leap progression, rather than in those smaller stages. But the not so simple truth is that even though I may have the same essential freedoms, I'm no longer the person I was when I was 20. . . . not on any level.
I am almost 50 years old, now. I'm gray and wrinkling with eyes that can no longer read without assistive devices and a brain that just doesn't have the same capacity to hold on to trivial pieces of information. I remember what's important. . . .how I felt in a given experience. . . .but I just don't even care to recall the insigificant minutia of details. And the things that were important to me when I was 20 just hold no meaning for this me at all. I've done the party scene. . . .spent too many mornings puking up enough bad memories to last ten lifetimes. . . .lol. I've done the college scene. . . .spent enough money also to last at least ten lifetimes. . . .lol. And I've done the professional scene. . . .spending my own life energy units to save ten other lifetimes.
I think I need a new scene.
One of my favorite animated films is Howell's Moving Castle. The young protagonist Sophie goes through many changes, but her transformation is possible only because a witch has turned her into an old lady, which frees her from all of her fears and limitations. In the form of the old lady she is free to speak her mind with no regard of what people think of her. But there is this one scene when she's sitting at the edge of the lake and she makes a comment how all old people want to do is sit and look at things. I really love that scene. . . .because I can so relate to that now.
I think I'm invisibly resisting the natural evolution of my aging self. My priorities HAVE changed. I'm not looking for who I want to be any more, I'm looking for a space to just be who I am already. I think I really am done fighting, because it's really not important any more. . . .not to THIS part of me. What's important now is how I feel as I move through each day. What's important is my quality of life.
The truth is that I have spent my whole life fighting for everyone else, but not for me. My childhood was spent taking care of my mom and my little brothers, but no one was really taking care of me. I made a comment once to my little brother Scotty about how for that year when we lived with our aunt and uncle, that was the only time in our life that we'd had a childhood. He corrected me by saying, "No. WE had a childhood. . . .you gave that to us." It stopped me dead in my tracks, because he was right. While they were outside playing, I was the one who was cleaning and making dinner and taking care of my incapacitated mother from as early as three years old. . . .and yes, I can actually remember that. . . lol.
Even my career choices have been about trying to save other people. During my early college days, I was actually a math major (I have always wanted to be a math teacher). When I got cancer the first time it was during my first year of college, so I changed my major to nutrition so that I could help other people never get cancer. However, after a year of dietetics study I transferred to another university as a math major again because the only class that really excited me was the one unit statistics for health professionals class.
My major quickly changed to art and creative writing when my life started falling apart because it was the only voice I had at the time, and any effort I made to work my way back to math has been thwarted in one way or another. My graduate studies as a family therapist was about helping other families to heal from the trauma and abuse that infected their family life. And my work as a social worker was to help foster kids heal from their abuse and have a wonderful and successful life.
Yes. . . .these choices were also about me, but not about the "me" me.
So that's why this transition is so hard. I have spent my life fighting to change the conditions all around me so that I could live my life in peace, but I've also been putting my own self on hold while I do that. There is a me that never got to be that is rising up inside and begging to be heard. I have a right to be here! I have a voice! she cries out in defiance of the spirit of the white bear all around her.
What I am just in this moment realizing is that the spirit of the white bear gave me strength at a time when I needed to learn how to fight and trudge on until I was strong enough internally to fight in my own way. I think I can finally remove the white bear's coat God so graciously cloaked around my overburdened shoulders as a child. The spirit of the white bear protected me and kept me safe even when the people in my young world could not, and I am ready to embrace this unknown spirit rising up from within.
So perhaps I can envision a post warrior me.
There is a point in everyone's life when we really begin to understand that we don't have an indefinite amount of time to do the things we want to do on this earth. I have fallen through this truth several times, but I am only now beginning to walk through its inevitability, and I have a choice to make: Do I continue fighting for the life I never got to have? Or do I lay down my sword and armor to sit at the edge of the lake and admire all of the beauty that surrounds me?