“This Is Not How I Am”

That’s what I’ve been sorely tempted to tell a lot of people lately. But, despite my wishes otherwise, it simply isn’t true.

I’ve been traveling a fair bit lately, meeting people with whom I hope to enjoy friendly relations for some time. So, of course I want to make a good impression. But it isn’t just them; sometimes, casual encounters with complete strangers—whom I don’t expect to ever see again—prompt the surge of longing to deny or discount who I currently am, and how I appear.

My weight issues are a good part of that longing, no doubt. To the best of my recollection, I was never overweight when younger, and I foolishly thought I could maintain that with no effort. But I’ve been around long enough that gravity is starting to pull on things in unappealing ways ... the silvery strands are mounting a serious challenge to the brown of my hair ... even my emotional state seems to be less “me”. It just doesn’t feel like me in this skin, in a lot of ways.

But, despite my wishing it weren’t so, it is how I am. Years of carelessness about my diet and stress-induced overeating have caused me to balloon. I’m reversing that process, but it is slow, and probably not noticeable to casual observers at this point. I am not willing to do much about the effects of time, so I’m hopeful I will grow into a graceful acceptance of sags and wrinkles along with grey hair. The emotions I am least certain about—I have always been an extremely sensitive person, but my control seems to have been better than it has been of late. On the other hand, being an individual with strong feelings is not a bad thing per se; since I tend not to care much what others think of me mayhaps I shouldn’t be so concerned about the tears that seem eager to appear in my eyes with just about any strong emotion.

I know that if I don’t like the way I am, I have choices available for changing it. And, I can change the way I think and feel about my self, too. I’ve done it before. But, for some reason, even though I can look back at the changes I’ve undergone in getting to where I am today, the changes borne of maturation seem much less problematic than the recent alterations ... perhaps I got overly accustomed to the young-woman person I was. Nearly thirty years of being much the same physically could do that to a person. And when the growing old starts, it isn’t as welcome a transition.

As a kid, I looked forward to growing up; I wanted to be in on the adult jokes and conversation; I wanted to live my life and exercise my power. Now ... now I realize that I have accrued a few regrets; I didn’t enjoy things as fully as I could have; there have always been a few things about which I’d prefer to say, “This is not how I am”; and that I would not be human if it were not so. We are always growing, into some things and out of others; we are always changing—except, perhaps, for that part of us that holds the self-image we strive to reach. Maybe it’s time I start to come to peace with that.