I Am NOT Me I Was!

If I’m NOT Me, Who AM I? The Evolution of Self.

I have come to the startling realization that I am not me. That is, I’m not the me who I thought I was.

I’ve worn masks my whole life. We all do. I’ve worn the mask of daughter, granddaughter, student, teacher, swimmer, gymnast, folk dancer, musician, writer, counselor, director, coach, mother, wife, expert, chef, motivator, — THE LIST COULD GO ON!

Growing up, I lived in a household of the late 1950’s decor AND of parents who loved vintage items and antiques. When my grandmother decided to move into a retirement center, my parents bought her house (the house where my mother spent most of her youth) because my mother couldn’t part with the dining room furniture AND it wouldn’t fit in the bungalow where I grew up.

When I got married, many of my furnishings were hand-me-downs: my parents’ original 1950 dining room set, shelves from my college years, and my husband’s bedroom furniture for our first son’s room. We did buy some furniture like our bedroom set, a “pit group” (now we call them sectionals) for our family room, and a living room set. All three were from a discount warehouse in the early 1980s.

By the time my kids were teens, the “pit group” had dwindled to three pieces left of the original nine and the living room set had two pieces left.

When my mom passed away and my oldest and his family moved into the home, we swapped out the bedroom set, and I carted most of the contents of the home back to my house. The family room became storage as well as both of the kids’ vacated bedrooms and the basement. (Ripley might have recorded the event. We took a two story three-bedroom home with a walk-up attic and a full exposed basement, plus a one car garage attached to the basement and a two plus street side garage; boxed it up; and added it to my already full ranch house.

Then, we moved almost all of it 596 miles south.

I grew up in a time where women had a trousseau even if she never got married and having friends over meant a grand display. The china came out instead of using the family dinnerware. The dining room tablecloth was changed, and a centerpiece was chosen.

BUT, that is NOT me. At least it is not the me I am now. I would rather have friends over, grill out, and use paper plates.

I am realizing that I am NOT the vintage 1950’s furniture person. In fact, I don’t think I am the vintage/antique person for much of anything. I don’t see the use for fine china, or crystal, or company best silver.

At one point in time, I loved all of that. I purchased cool vintage items and antiques at garage sales. I loved inheriting all the stuff I had admired for years.

BUT NOW . . . it doesn’t seem to fit me. NOW, I wonder why I kept all the STUFF I did.

It feels strange to want to sell it all. It feels foreign to NOT want the stuff in my home. But it isn’t me. I want things around me that convey me and my husband.

I’ve shed many of my masks and donned others. I have changed, as we all do. I am not the me I was even a year ago.

Who am I? It is an on-going exploration as I move through each day.

BUT HERE IS WHAT I KNOW FOR SURE —

FIRST, I am a parent and grandparent of some pretty amazing individuals and their spouses.

SECOND, I am a wife to an amazing man who I am proud to call my husband.

THIRD, I am a disorganized, collector of everything from my and my family’s past. Family history fascinates me.

FOURTH, I have been living in a past that has not allowed me to fully explore who I actually am.

FIFTH, I am a writer who is scared that people will think that my characters mirror my life and my experiences.

SIXTH, I am a musician who wonders where I would be musically if I had realized my abilities and practiced accordingly.

Number 1 and 2 are the fabulously positive aspects of my life, and I think if I work on number 3 and 4 that number 5 and 6 just might fall into place.

A bizarre way of looking at the rest of 2019 —

In the last two hours before the dawn of 2020, I have a lot of clearing out in order to get myself ready for the opportunities that 2020 has to offer.

In theory, 2019 has only two hours left. If we compare a year to a day, here’s how it breaks down.

There are 12 months to a year, but 24 hours to a day. Each month, then, is equivalent to two hours. Thus, 12 months X 2 hours = ONE WHOLE DAY.

If, the beginning of a new day, in some circles, begins at dawn and a new year begins on January 1, we are approximately two hours from the beginning of 2020.

That made it a bit scary, didn’t it?

THE GOAL

I am trying, before the dawn of 2020, to actually get my house in order. With the chaos of 2019, this is a difficult undertaking, but I want EVERYTHING in order in the next 25 days or less.

I would love my living space to look more like this . . .

and less like this . . .

I’m giving myself 25 days to get through mounds of paperwork that have collected over, well, over the last 4 years. If I can tackle that, I might proceed to tackle the boxes of paperwork that sit out in the trucking office that hasn’t been used since 2016 when Hubby had to medically retire from trucking.

I’m giving myself 25 days to get through the boxes that are stacked in my garage. Boxes of items that we moved from Illinois to Tennessee, and I have no idea why I wanted to keep some of the things.

I’m giving myself 25 days to look at whether the things in my house represent me, or if they are they are taking up space because they had been my mother’s, my grandmother’s, or another family member’s.

You see, I looked around me today, and in addition to the massive amount of filing I need to do, I saw little that I had actually purchased. I live in a hand-me-down furnished home. It’s not that I want to get rid of the beautiful furniture I inherited or the shelves that my father made or the poker table that my grandfather made. It’s not that at all.

It’s that there is little of me or my husband. It’s more of the things I inherited. It’s the stylings of the house that is still painted the same as when we bought it (except for the guest room’s neon green and hot pink color scheme) with the same curtains and drapes.

Yes, I am a sum of the makings of my past, but I am also a diamond in the rough who has had some work but not enough to let all the facets shine through.

It’s time to clear the clutter so that the gem cutter can truly chisel away at my exterior to reveal the brilliance of the diamond. It’s time to rid myself of the things that do not represent me or tell the story of my past.

Thanks for reading.

Rebecca (Becky) spent 34 years in a teaching career, but when she retired in 2014, she picked up her pen and pursued her passion to write. As a high school English teacher, Becky held the philosophy that she wouldn’t give any writing assignment that she personally wouldn’t or couldn’t do. That philosophy strengthened and broadened her own writing.

In addition to publishing her writing on various platforms, Becky also blogs at Life is for Living, a blog to encourage, motivate, and help others live the best life possible. As an extension of Life is for Living, she also publishes a weekly newsletter, Let’s Chat. (Check it out HERE.) Life is for Living also has a social media presence with the group Coffee on my Porch. (Check it out HERE.)

After teaching writing for 34 years, Becky began Ink & Keyboard, a blog for writers at all levels. She supplements what she writes on the blog with a subscription newsletter, The Writer’s Notebook (Check it out HERE.) and the social media group Ink & Keyboard (Check it out HERE.)

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