When you begin to fall apart around the edges, the more you try to put the pieces back together, the more they seem to bend and crease in your shaking fingers.
Yesterday saw pieces of me shattering in little piles on the floor with every step.
I arrived at work with a sense of confidence and a patchwork idea of who I was.
I left work feeling like I had been holding up a picture of myself that wasn’t painted with a light on. I was smudged and just off a bit there and there. Something wasn’t right and it hit me steadily in the heart during my entire shift.
A stack of errors greeted me as I put my bag down and spoke to me about ignorance and mistakes. What am I doing?
A meeting where I suddenly realized that I was still holding onto my past identity like rusty armor. What am I doing?
A colleague that scattered more pieces of me to the floor with a simple phrase said under her breath. What am I doing?
A mirror in the empty bathroom that reflected the trail I was leaving behind and the shattered image of a woman who didn’t know why she was there, what she was doing, or who she was. What am I doing?
I came to realize that I had been lying to myself since the start of this journey nearly two years ago that I was free from my previous identity. Apparently erasing who we once were wasn’t so easy. We can go on for a bit with the belief that we’ve changed our skins, but underneath it all, we’re still who we are – the girl that wants something. Having a career that matched my skills was important. It wasn’t enough to just get by. I had thought I had found that something, but yesterday forced me to see the truth – I have to accept who I was and make her a part of me before I can fully accept where I am.
For a while, I had settled and believed myself content with this patch of ground. Now, I realize I have to get up and keep going. To keep seeking, to keep searching.