My secret identity

Once upon a time there was a girl.  She was young and starry eyed and full of trust.  She met a boy that gave her everything a 15 year old girl could want.  They fall in love or whatever love means at that age.  They date and become “the” couple.  He was the popular one, she was not.  An unlikely combination, but they travelled forward together with determination and innocence and pride.  The girl and boy married at age 21 and 23 respectively, and they were the first ones of the “group” to do so.  Blissfully unaware that the hesitation they both felt before the wedding would be a valuable lesson in listening to your instincts.  They moved together through life, through jobs, changed addresses, lost children, gave birth to children and tried to make sense of the downward spiral that had become their reality.  They were determined to prove that happily ever after was going to be ending to their story.

 As time went on the girl in this story lost herself, in fact, she never really had the chance to develop a sense of “self”.  She didn’t know any better.  How could she know?  She became comfortable in her role as the wife.  She thought this was the way it should be.  She clung to this role because she didn’t know how to be anything else.  She held on because who would she be without him? 

She had accepted the labels that were placed on her, from others and from herself.  She was the full time wife and full time career woman.  She was the go to friend for advice, the one who would drop everything to help, the co worker who would take on all the extra tasks. She was mom and all that word encompasses.  She was the one who allowed the storm of anxiety to brew inside herself when she felt that she disappointed.  She was labelled as the door mat for her inability to say “no”.  She grew to accept she was a people pleaser.  It made her feel like she had a purpose. Needing support was no longer an option to her because she was “the strong one”. This girl didn’t cry…she was the brave one.  She came to accept that she couldn’t ask for help because she was labelled as the one with all the answers.  She took care of her husband because those were the labels that they made for themselves.  He expected it and she gave. 

In her quest to help everyone else, she realized but never acknowledged at the time, that she had supported other people’s accomplishments and had done so much cheering on for everyone else that she had done very little for herself. She immersed herself in taking care of other people’s to-do lists that she had started neglecting her own.  Suddenly her goals and dreams took the back burner in order to support those around her.  She let this happen willingly because these were her labels.  This was who she was now.  The lines became blurred and the girl became invisible. 

She built her life on this shaky foundation of labels.  They gave her an identity.  They gave her a foundation created out of the fear that she could never let anyone down, with the fear of never being good enough and with the acceptance of defeat that she could never be anything but the labels she had accepted and had grown to feel safe with. She accepted the labels that “protected” her from the terrifying task of being true to herself. 

What she didn’t know, or ever expected, was the foundation she had built was about the crack.  The crack went deeper as life went on and the foundation began to crumble beneath her.  She didn’t know that when a hurricane ripped through her foundation she would be thrust into a journey of self discovery.  She had no idea that she was about to become the heroine in her own story.  She didn’t know what she was really capable of. She didn't know her own strength…until now.

Over time, I started to peel away the labels.  This process started long before my marriage ended.  I woke up one morning and realized that I couldn’t live another second in the box I had crammed myself into.  Needless to say, this did not go over well.  The once tolerant wife took her doormat label and tore it up.  This did not sit well with the man who had come to like and expect the doormat that I had allowed myself to be.  The removal of the labels became even more important once my marriage was officially over.  It was like peeling off a wool sweater on a warm day.  The itchiness, the heaviness, the covering up, all melted away once I stood in the sunshine, free of the pressure.

Some labels were so stuck that I had to pick and scratch them off.  Sometimes it hurt.  But, my secret identity was hidden under those labels and I wasn’t about to give up now.  Some of the labels fell away without much effort.  Some were like a band aid that I tore off with eyes closed and breath held, leaving what was underneath sore and exposed, perhaps not quite healed (the single mother label was one of these hold your breath and tear it off labels).  Other labels I tore off a little at a time and when I became afraid I panicked and I tried feverishly to stick them back on.  But once removed and forced back into place, I found they didn’t stick quite the same.  The labels that once provided me with protection and comfort didn’t feel good anymore.  The corners kept peeling away and no matter how hard I tried to keep them attached, they continued to peel away.  I had no choice but to let them fall away in their own time. 

And when I had reached the core of my identity I found something amazing.  The layers and pieces of the labels that suffocated me for so long blew away in the changing winds that brought me here.  At my core I found there is no failure, only encouragement, only support, only warmth.  There is self- love, freedom from guilt and balance. At my core there is a huge heart that will still do anything for anyone. A heart that is loving and strong and brave.  There is acceptance that I am ever evolving and a desire to keep evolving. I found the knowledge I am not powerful enough to change someone else’s story. I do not have their answers. At my core I found the freedom to write and edit and rewrite my own story. 

I found my truth, my strength, my flexibility.

Today is the day that I ask something from you. 

Please be kind to yourself.  Take off your wool sweater.  Be patient.  Don’t stick labels on the people around you.  Don’t live your labels.  You are so much more.    

So how does this heroine's story end?  It turns out that she did in fact live happily ever after.  Because she wrote it that way.

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