What I Am Not

Sometimes, on the quest to discovering who we are, we must first come to understand what we are not. The process is often painful. It has been for me at any rate. I can safely say that I am not a convincing salesperson. I'm not a "Yes" woman either. I'm not passive or content with receiving handouts. I'm not the kind of person who gives up. I'm not always capable of a balanced perspective in the heat of the moment. I'm not a very good athlete. I'm not a vegetarian. Nor a lover of the work of Jane Austen. I'm not one of those people who draws attention to herself just by entering a room. I'm not one of those people who can accept that 'cultural differences" are justifiable means for failing to connect with other human beings.

What I'm not says a great deal about what I am. And that is a work in progress.

Tonight brings a round of trivia with good friends. The weekend brings a date at a bookstore and a storytelling conference, and a return to the Unitarian Universalist church I scoped out last Sunday.

I suppose even mentioning the good things ahead gives some indication that I am also hopeful, no longer determined by past events, which, instrumental as they were in the shaping of my sense of self, are not synonymous with my sense of self.

If you're reading this, you're the progeny of survivors of cataclysms. You've endured your own unique set of hardships and you're stronger for it, whether it feels that way or not. If it does feel that way, you're not really in it anymore. It won't feel that way forever. Hang onto the strength. Memorialize it in whatever way makes the most sense to you. And if it doesn't feel like you can even stand, do it anyway. And then declare boldly that you've done what you felt you couldn't, no matter how small the feat. You can do anything in the end, so long as you're on your side.