"If you aren't sure who you are, you might as well work on who you want to be."
One of the biggest struggles after profound loss is just knowing who we are. When we lose a partner, we lose half of our identity, no matter how independent we might have already been. We lose our partner who also tends to be our best friend, our confidante, our cheerleader, our emotional support, and our social date. It can feel really ugly to go out alone if we're not used to it, or to make decisions alone when we're used to talking it over with someone first.
I think part of the problem here is that, in addition to wrangling grief, we're older and we've had the ability to day dream stripped away by the realities of life. Our culture is really odd in that we encourage children to dream big but only for a limited amount of time; after that, it's time to get serious and grow up. Unfortunately, "growing up" means abandoning dreams in favor of the practical and the socially-expected.
Profound loss provides one of the rare moments in adulthood where we can and should dream big again. Our lives have been changed irrevocably and without our consent. So, what now? Think about that kid you know who wants to be a Batman Astronaut Firefighter and channel that spirit. Brainstorm like mad. What's someone you've always wanted to try, no matter how crazy it might seem? Well, why not?
And it's reasonable to not know where to even start. Many of us have put others' wants and needs ahead of our own for so long that we aren't even sure of what we want. So, start small: think of what feels good, no matter how insignificant it may seem. Think about what activities leave you feeling energized. Or, think about the things that just totally make you lose track of time. Start there.
When I was a kid, I wanted to be a writer - well, a writer-actress-singer-veterinarian - basically, I wanted to be a mutli-hyphenate before they were a thing. Writing was the first love and I could read and write before I went to kindergarten. But by the time I was in college, I'd already internalized how impractical those dreams were and I went in to teaching. That's a steady, reliable gig, right? The problem was that I hate teaching. There are aspects I loved, like tossing around thoughts and ideas with students and drawing up colorful examples of difficult concepts but those aren't the things that tend to be valued by administrators.
I don't think it's a coincidence that after I lost Bill, I began writing and getting paid for it for the first time ever. My world had been so up-ended that it was finally reasonable to try out the unreasonable. And it worked.
I am not suggesting we walk away from our lives or totally break rank and live outside of society - though hey, if that's your thing, have at it. What I am suggesting is that we open up our minds to dreams again. Who do you want to be? And now that life has been completely scrambled up, why not?
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