New Days to Put Old Selves Away

Standard Disclaimer:  Nothing I say in this post or any other post is meant to be prescriptive in any way.  My comments and opinions are based on my own lived experience, and thus, cannot be generalized to the very different lived experience of others.  ‘Nuff said.

Sometime last year I wrote a “Track Suits” post about how I check in daily with myself to see if any aspects of what I know about myself (often interpreted as identities) need to be re-evaluated or are no longer true in my current context.  As I said then, some of the common questions revolve around sexuality, gender, relationships, marriage, children, career goals, spirituality, or just about the whole gamut of the “big” ideas.  To some, this constant state of flux could seem like the epitome of flakey-ness, a sure sign that I don’t know myself or what I want.

As a dear one, the Feminist Librarian, said in a recent post over at her blog, “By limiting ‘legitimate’ or ‘authentic’ sexuality [or really any other self-conception] to that which is fixed, innate, and ostensibly knowable from birth, we demand certainty on an issue which — for some if not most — is far from certain, or perhaps serially certain — we know ourselves, and then we know ourselves again in a new light. Both equally true.” (Bracket addition mine)  I would only add (in an allusion to my favorite quantum-mechanical principle) that we come to know one self just as it has moved beyond that knowledge and into another form or another self which we work to know again.  Lather, rinse, repeat.

Why am I waxing metaphysical about selves and such on a random Saturday afternoon?  Well, because I can.  At last tally, I’ve got only about 20 regular readers, and there’s a freedom to knowing that I’m not all that popular.  Also, most of the dear ones in my life read this collection of nonsense, and it’s a great way for them to know what’s going on and not to think, “Goodness, what the hell is up with M.?”  And lastly, as the subtitle of this journal says, writing is a way of working towards that self-knowledge I mentioned above, and I’m in need of some clarity right now.  This is probably going to be an epic navel-gaze, so feel free to stop reading at any point.

This past week I had the dubious honor of undergoing a nerve-wracking, diagnostic medical procedure.  I was feeling pretty ok with everything until I reached the waiting room, which undoubtedly shares a zip code with one of the hamlets of hell.  I’d had a lengthy discussion of all the physical ins and outs of the procedure and what side effects to expect the week before, but nowhere did anything read “WARNING: will likely cause significant existential crisis.  It’s probably best to have a buddy on speed-dial.”  Sitting there in those ridiculously uncomfortable chairs, I felt the abyss stare back in the form of a puke-pink painted wall.  Maybe I was making a bit much of the whole thing, I thought.  A quick look around at the rest of the stricken faces in the room, and I realized that nope, I wasn’t especially susceptible to a moment of crazy.

Like any period of self-deconstruction, my brain was having a field day with obsessing over the tiniest of possibilities.  Objectively I knew there is less than 1% chance that the test will be positive and everything will go all pear-shaped.  Did that stop me from placing myself mentally in the position of up shit creek prematurely and asking ALL the questions?  Not a chance.  It’s the classic game of “if you had 6 months to live…”  However, the game gets a bit more real in that waiting room scenario.  Would you say you had a good life?  What would the life you’ve lived up until now say about you?  Have you spent your days in fulfilling ways, or do you spend your time waiting for the next thing?  What is most important for your happiness?  How would you spend the time you have left?  What have you not done because of fear?

I was struck pretty much dumb by most of my instinctual answers to these, and other, questions.  Despite my daily check-ins, I’d become a relative stranger to myself.  Somewhere along the way a new self formed that is pretty damn unconcerned and contented.  Most of the facets of life I would have counted among the most important in previous years (months, even) just don’t seem to carry that much weight anymore.  Intellectual recognition – I could take it or leave it.  Just let me continue to learn about things that interest me, and I’m cool.  I don’t need to be the smartest person in the room.  Career success – I just want a sense of feasible purpose.  Can I make a small difference in the life of another person in a way that brings us both joy or comfort?  If so, I’ll be set.  Money – Let me pay off undergrad and grad school.  Spirituality – I’m done with grasping after some self-made concept of something more.  If there is anything sacred, it’s embedded in the quotidian details of life.  I’ll just relax into it.

And then some things took on newfound importance.  Gender – Just don’t.  I’m not terribly comfortable with either a masculine or feminine gender.  Both feel like wearing that too-small pair of pants you only pull out on laundry day.  Relationships (friendship) – the part of my life from which I derive the most joy.  Take everything else away, and I’ll be fine as long as I am allowed to continue to be a part of the lives of my amazing dear ones.  Relationships (romantic) – Yes, lets.  Bit of a surprise, this.  It seems that all I had to do was dismantle my earlier relationship notions and then I could actually begin to see how I could be in one.  Fascinating.  Marriage – That would be really nifty.  Maybe at some point I’ll want to set up a shared life with someone, but I’m not ruling it out entirely as before.  Children – I’m still not anywhere near interested in birthing a child myself.  No!  However, I’m not as categorically against them.  If some future partner is really jazzed about children, then we’ll have to talk about it.  But, my answer won’t be an immediate ‘no.’

So that was one hell of a waiting room experience, and now I’m hoping that everything is ok in the end with the tests.  I’m spending the weekend putting old clothes out to charity, old DVDs and books out to the library, and old selves away for safe keeping in the scrapbook of my memory like school photos.

I wonder what I’ll come up with next?