A Stranger to Myself

While the title might suggest otherwise, this post isn't a complaint or a conundrum.

I've been feeling like I'm getting closer to the life I always wanted, but it appears that I might be losing sight of the person who wanted it. For the first time in my adult life, I've started to feel at home, in my space and in my skin. I've started meeting people who are opening doors in my mind I didn't even know existed. Life, which always seemed to keep me waiting, has finally decided to cooperate.

And suddenly, the 'what am I doing with my life? ' question has been replaced by 'what exactly was I doing with my life?'

Things I once knew with absolute certainty have become negotiable. My priorities are shifting. Possibilities I might have dismissed six months ago now seem worth exploring. I've started wondering whether I've evolved, lost the plot, or simply become very good at convincing myself that whatever is happening to me now, must be what I want.

I've also realised that fear is clever. It rarely introduces itself as fear. It prefers to arrive disguised as a change of heart, a fresh perspective, a perfectly reasonable explanation for why something can wait a little longer. Of course, sometimes we genuinely change our minds. Sometimes the destination changes as we grow. It would be rather tragic to spend our lives pursuing a dream simply because our younger selves had the foresight to write it down.

We talk about finding ourselves as though we're lost objects, waiting to be discovered. But what if, in the process of building a life, we become so wonderfully adaptable that we can justify pretty much every detour? Is that a bad thing? Am I losing my ambition, my foresight, all those qualities a good upbringing supposedly equips us with? Perhaps. But I'm happy. I'm happy not knowing exactly who I'm becoming. I learn about myself - simultaneously as those around me do.

I may never realise any of the dreams I've had. Not because I've failed, but because life keeps introducing me to versions of myself I couldn't have accounted for earlier. I sometimes wonder if this is part of getting older. Becoming comfortable with the things we know about ourselves, and the things we don't. Allowing the tide to wash away some of our old notions, then letting the light of a new day colour us in different shades.

I've decided that all I really need is a foundation strong enough to stand on, without insisting that everything built upon it must be permanent. And instead of rushing to try and define the stranger who emerges from the impermanence of our circumstances, it's time to let them surprise us. To trust the process and enjoy the uncertainty. We're all, to some degree, strangers to ourselves. And to everyone else. And that's okay...