Meaning in the Mess
It’s been a mess. Truly.
The past 6 months offer the kind of highlights that could stun most conversationalists into silence if you drop them in casual banter:
I left a 6 year, 6-figure job to build my own business
And went to court to advocate for my elderly, paraplegic mother who is struggling with dementia
Then my husband of 18 years moved out, and I’m solo-parenting our 2 boys the majority of the time.
(stunned silence)
For added effect, I can let the person I’m talking to know that those things happened within 90 days.
And honestly, I’m so glad they did.
It has been… a lot. There’s no denying that major life shifts and events bring big tsunami-style waves of emotion, swirl, and “oh my god how do I do this” thoughts in very early morning hours.
But here’s the beauty of major endings: they clear space for major beginnings. And while things are clearing, you really get a chance to understand who you are, and if you watch closely, you get to see what you’re capable of.
The Top Five Regrets of the Dying
In my work with people navigating enormous change, I often reference palliative care nurse Bronnie Ware’s book: the Top Five Regrets of the Dying, because the number one regret says it all:
I wish I’d had the courage to live a life true to myself, not the life others expected of me.
I came across the book over a decade ago, and that top regret still swirls in my head. It’s the kind of thing that haunts you if you know you’re living by other people’s rules and expectations, and you’re scared to admit it (me).
The goodest girl.
I’ve long worked under the assumption that being “good” would earn safety, protection, and fair treatment from others. That putting others’ needs and expectations ahead of my own was the wisest choice. Instead of wisdom, it brought me suffering, resentment, and a lot of pain.
I’m not the first to acknowledge this archetype. Anyone embodying feminine energy in the broader culture experiences this: the expectation to become the one who fills the gaps in awkward conversation, be nice, be easy, don’t make it hard for others to show up however they want (even if it is harmful… good girls don’t call that out). I used to be the one who smoothed over the tension when things got awkward. I was the emotional janitor.
It’s all falling apart… thank goodness.
I mention the top regret and my recent chaotic life experience in the same post here for good reason:
When it all falls apart, you get to define how you show up next.
Every role I have fulfilled has dissolved in one way or another: I’m no longer the wife, I’m not consistently the daughter (when Mom’s dementia makes it hard for her to place who I am in her life), and I’m no longer the work colleague or the Director.
I’m just me.
In 90 short days, I got an eviction notice for every version of myself that couldn’t belong to me any longer. The roles that anchored who I thought I was have been stripped away, and now I’ve only got myself in which to find an identity.
Here’s where I’m headed.
So far, here’s what I know about me:
I’m authentically strong. Not in the “wow, she never cries” kind of way but in the honest, I can cry and rage and fall apart, and then get up and do the dishes kind of way that is a real part of being fully human.
I am sovereign. My worth, my love, my value, is all inherent in who I am. I belong to myself. The good girl belonged to everyone’s expectations. The sovereign woman belongs only to herself.
My kids are better off seeing me go through this. There’s no pretending perfection, just honestly trying the best I can, with grace, to evolve through some difficult moments. They’ll have their moments too, so at least I can offer an example.
This only makes me better. My passion is supporting people to create meaningful change in their lives - and this, my friend, is a masterclass in that very thing.
When you’re ready to drop the mask.
My wish for you is that life doesn’t line up 3 major life events in a 90-day timeframe to pivot you to a new identity; that it doesn’t throw a match to the gasoline and burn all the structures and roles you’ve held down in one fell swoop. It might do that very thing (we’re in the same club, babe), but I hope, in your own time, you decide to live a life a little truer to yourself.
No matter the path it takes, you can handle the change, and you’re not alone.
