Her words haunt me, echoing through my mind, looking for a place to stay, to settle, to make their own.
I know there is meaning there, and depth, and that all will be revealed once I truly grasp it, but for now I struggle still, wondering if this is really what she meant, if there really is beauty and peace in accepting responsibility for one’s actions, for one’s wishes, for one’s limitations.
I’ve been doing something else challenging the past few days, something that I’ll tell you all about on Friday, but suffice it to say that it’s been something difficult for me to do. Something that takes going out in public and putting myself out there again. Meeting new people who don’t know me, and ask innocently, “What happened to your arm?” (or rudely: “What did you do to yourself?”) Walking back in pathways I’ve walked before, but as a different person now. Finding myself in places that I knew I’d be again, but with a totally different perspective. It’s wonderful and scary and liberating and a little freaky all at the same time.
I didn’t expect it to be. I expected it to be simple, straightforward, a step back to what I know I can do. But, after all that has transpired over the past 5 years, I find that I’m a different person now. I care about different things. I value connections on a different level. Not more, not less. Just … different.
And as I walk back into that room, I have to stop myself from apologizing or temporizing. I have to walk in there, bandaged arm, different life, and all, and … well … own it. This is my life now. This is who I am.
This is who I am.