Image credit: The Fresh Exchange
I had a little revelation the other day…
She stood and looked at the painting on the wall in front of her and she felt a tearing. Her reality blurred and split into two, like there were two people inside her; the woman she had become and the woman she had thought she would become. The two looked at each other, comparing, knowing that they were separate, they were different.
Their two journeys were superimposed over each other and she could see where the differences were, the choices made without thought of the consequences that had taken her on a different route to the one that she had thought she would take. Inconsequential choices, unconscious choices, choices that at the time were not harbingers of change, they were simply decisions made without thinking about the long term.
She thought of her husband and her children and knew that she did not regret those choices and would not give up either to become that other person, but the question niggled at her…why couldn’t she have both?
Surely there was a way for her to be the woman that she wanted to be and have the life that she now had. Surely it didn’t have to be either or. She looked deep within herself and wondered at what the fundamental differences were. If she was happy with part of her life, surely she could be happy with all of it. Couldn’t she have the essence of the other woman, but still have her husband, her children? What would that look like? What would that feel like?
She realised that she had been keeping that other part of herself prisoner. Stuffing her voice down, ignoring the pull of her desires because she didn’t think she was that person anymore, but she was, just with a few coats of paint over her. The wild, spontaneous, exciting side of her was still there, she had just been bound and gagged by the choices she had made along the way. Now she questioned everything. She questioned those decisions to walk away from the desires that had lit passion within her. The woman she had become was but a dried up husk to the what she could be.
Shaking her head she admonished herself for thinking that she could be any different than she was. Her youth was behind her and she was looking at the rest of her life as a grown up. It was too late to make the changes, too late to turn around. This was nothing more than a midlife crisis.
She turned from the painting and moved on, it was just a pipe dream to think that she could have both. This was her reality and it had been nice to dream, nice to think that maybe she could recapture some of that person that she used to be before responsibilities and grownupedness had interfered. This was life, this was being an adult. The rest…the rest was nothing but fancy.