becoming

~ onehopefulyear

I thought I knew myself well. Really. I’ve lived with myself all my life, for goodness sake. By now, I should know how I feel about most things, how I’ll react to others, and why.

And maybe I do, mostly. Until I don’t – occasionally.

As it turns out, aging is one more evolution of me.

I’m becoming. Again.

And I think – this time – I’m observing myself more carefully. This process of becoming is fascinating and exciting and (at times) a little anxiety producing. I’m not sure what me I’m moving toward and with no real goal in mind, not sure where I’ll end up.

I am my own experiment. An emotional experiment. A social experiment. A physical experiment.

When forming a hypothesis about myself and this me I’m becoming, I often wonder about the women who came before me. Who they were at my age. How they felt. Their emotional struggles. Longings. Loss. Dreams. Fears. Hope.

Maybe it’s only as simple as only now owning most of my time. So as to listen to my thoughts. So as to understand exactly how I feel. Learn who I am underneath all the roles I’ve played thus far: daughter, granddaughter, student, wife, mother, teacher, friend.

Become me.

All over again.

7 thoughts on “becoming”

  1. I have been checking periodically to see if you had a new post. I was happy to find this piece! It is such a thoughtful reflection on aging Barb. Well done! 😊

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    1. Thank you, Suzanne. Aging is so complex and interesting, isn’t it? One woman’s experience is likely different from another’s, and yet, I’m sure there are similarities too. Neither my mother nor my grandmother spoke of it, so I wonder about them. Why don’t we talk about it? How it feels? It’s hard. It’s chock-full of emotions. Up, down, and sideways. Thank you so much for watching this space. My goal is to write more often. ❤️

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      1. My mom was from RI and was a bit of a stoic. She never really talked about aging a lot, but seemed genuinely content as she reached her later years. I think her overall positive attitude helped to keep her going even after her physical abilities declined.

        My mother-in-law spoke to me once of the age of her inner spirit or self. I was probably in my late 40s at the time. She said that even though she was of a certain age, inside she felt fifteen or twenty years younger. I have always remembered that and now find it to be so true! 😊

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      2. So very interesting. I’m also curious about the differences in the experiences of men and women. I feel watchful and I’m trying to be observant, like I want to wring the most of me out of this experience. Thanks for chatting about this and for sending along The NY Times piece, I appreciate your kindness, perspective, and friendship. 😊

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  2. mmm … lots of food for reflection here, friend. sometimes i stomp my feet at the thought of 70 approaching. fear and apprehension and what if’s too easily cloud my view. and then i switch gears and look at all the blessings of being right here, right now. and i’m thankful, the fear fades away. i know Who holds my future. and that’s good enough for me.

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