I am, for the most part, pretty quiet. I can hear my friend Linda laughing out loud at that. Mary Jo is rolling her eyes heavenward. My husband thinks he is reading the wrong blog. It is true, nonetheless.
These last months have been a series of conflictions. On one hand, I have become far more outgoing. I've been willing to approach people, and more willing to say what is on my mind, at least in print. Why not? If somebody thinks I am pushy, annoying or crazy as a fruitcake that is merely their opinion. Everyone has one, you know?
On the other hand, I have been spending more time with myself. I find a quiet place to eat the lunch I usually carry, or I take a mid-day break to treat myself to myself. Reading has become a difficult pastime. Instead, I write in my ever-present notebook or listen to music. Sometimes I meditate and sometimes I listen to the wind and the waves.
Today I made a couple of sales calls. I can't get motivated. The sun is shining. I want to play, but the other kids aren't around. I don't want to think about my eyes or my work or what I am going to cook for supper. I want to run on the beach or go sailing. My sneakers are at home. I have no boat. Sigh.
Today I would hide if I saw anyone I knew. My shiny silver mop needs a cut; it is dull and unmanageable. At 44 degrees, I opted for a slightly too large red blazer instead of my pink fur coat. I'm freezing. My shoes are dirty with mud. I lost an earring.
Today I am very quiet. I am part of the landscape, hoping no one notices me. The car that parks near me looks familiar, but he is another soul like me, hiding in plain sight. He leashes his dog and walks toward the water. He didn't see me.
Some folks bring out the best in me--or the worst, depending on your point of view. With some, I am gregarious, with an easy laugh and flirtatious body language. Others make me feel like a sixth-grader in the principal's office. Some make me want to button the top of my shirt and answer their questions with nods and shakes; with others, I want to run barefoot in the grass.
I am slowly coming to realize that the "ME" I have been looking for is not one person, but many. Not a multiple personality disorder, you understand (oh, quit snickering!), but different phases of one. I have been looking for the "real" me, wondering if it was the quiet one or the obnoxious one or the vivacious one.
Am I the smart one? The writer? The salesman? The candy maker? The cookie lady? Am I the one who is too self-conscious to wear a bathing suit? The one who dreads running into people I haven't seen in years, thinking they might see only the pounds? Am I the one who needs to be loved by everybody or the one who doesn't care a rat's behind what they think of me? Am I the pretty one who stops men in their tracks, or the one the trooper spares a ticket because he figures it is the only break I will ever get?
I am all of these, because I AM.
It came to me today as I watched the seagulls. They are white and grey and beige. Their color changes with their age. They are still seagulls, and will always be seagulls. I will never be Jonathan Livingston, but I will always be Marilyn.
I felt the tears come. I have taken a great leap toward knowing who I am. Now I need to make a list of what I believe.
It was an AHA! moment.
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