I wonder what kind of people we would be if all the things that have happened to us, did not happen to us. I wonder how much of it is nature vs. nurture. How many of their demons are there because of me, or despite me?
I wonder what we would look like if we had continued our trajectory. Would we be softer? Would we be more kind?
I have an idealized version of myself as Mother where I am the person I used to be. Patient and solid.
I don’t know that woman anymore.
Sometimes I see her when I get excited and ahead of myself-as-the-person-I-am-now. I think I can do a thing or be a thing or make life look a certain way, I’m so sure of it and of myself. And then everything falls apart and I fall apart and I remember that the old life was a dream, and my old optimism was born of naivete and stubbornness and heroic cognitive dissonance. I tried really, really hard.
And myself-as-the-person-I-am-now does not, or can not, try very hard anymore.
I wonder if I had not had my whole ass handed to me by life if that would still be the case. If I might have some stupid bright eyed optimism left in me. Enough to organize the toys. Enough to gently walk my child through a teaching moment without wanting to scream. Enough to look at myself in the mirror and think, “OK, sure”.
It is no joke to not like the person that you are.
That's Not What I Mean 