The "Mourning" After.
At 50+ years into my life journey, I’ve reached a realization that has left me breathless: I have spent five decades building a version of myself that was never meant to be me.
I am no stranger to storms. I have weathered them marriage, motherhood, and throughout my whole life. I’ve navigated floods of loss and gale-force winds of change. Every time, my instinct was the same: batten down the hatches, protect everyone else, and be the anchor. I took a certain pride in being the one who didn’t break.
But this storm is different. It’s internal. And it’s forced me to realize that I’ve been living in a state of addiction, an addiction to the approval of others.
For more than half a century, I have been a master of the Mirage. I was the one who knew exactly how to shape-shift to make everyone else feel comfortable. I believed it was my job to be the shock absorber, to soften the blow, to smooth over the edges, and to protect the egos of everyone around me, even when it meant bruising my own soul in the process. I have spent thousands of hours rehearsing how to say “no” in a way that sounded like “maybe,” or how to say “I’m hurting” in a way that sounded like “I’m fine.”
I am Mourning the girl who thought her worth was a negotiation. I am looking back at 50 years of “cushioning” the world and realizing that all I did was allow others to stay comfortable while I stayed empty. I spent decades vibrating with anxiety, worrying about what “they” would think if I finally stopped. I was terrified that if I didn’t provide that cushion, I would be seen as weak, or difficult, or simply not enough.
I became an expert at the M-Word of Maintenance, maintaining everyone else’s peace while my own house was on fire.
And now, I am standing at the grave of that woman.
I realized that my worth does not lie in someone else’s approval or in the exhausting labor of convincing someone else of my value. I spent so much energy trying to win the battle out there, only to realize the real war was in here.
The victory wasn’t in changing anyone else’s minds. It was in changing mine.
I am done protecting egos that aren’t mine to manage. If the truth is uncomfortable for others to hear, that is no longer my burden to carry.
I have cleared out the performer to make room for the human. I am no longer available for a life where I have to disappear to be loved. I am choosing me. Without the cushion. Without the apology. Without the addiction to a “well done” from people who never truly saw me anyway.
Whose opinion are you still trying to change? Did you ever feel like the only person you needed to convince... was you?