Running from me

I’ve spent at least half of my life running from me. Unsure of who I was, trying hard to fit into the norms of society as a woman, friend, girlfriend then wife, sister, daughter, mother and professional. It takes a lot of effort to fit into these roles and into the societal expectations of these roles. Despite the difficulty, I was successful at being all of these people, at least from about 25 years old on. I was also successful at hiding a lot of who I was, afraid of it. Shameful of times in my life and experiences I had lived. I was adamant of certain things being in my past and not what I was in my present. 

Turning 40 last year hit hard. I could be nearly halfway through my life! Am I happy? Am I truly happy?

The answer was no, which was hard to digest. I have amazing relationships in my life, love and support, financial stability, and my family was complete with my husband and children. It started to finally make sense though. No matter how great my life was, nothing external could make me happy inside. It was time to settle in and rebuild the relationship with me. 

As I approached 40, I had a newly turned 4-year-old and almost 9-month old. 2021 had been the highest of highs but also very traumatic. I felt ashamed for thinking this, the traumatic part, because earlier that year, we welcomed our son through adoption (a process that took two years, but more on that later!), completing our family of four. By the end of that year, I felt tired, really tired. I had developed coping strategies that were anything but helpful. My judgmental and critical internal dialogue was screaming loudly. I desperately tried to control anything I could, and my drinking started increasing in volume and frequency. 

I’m not sure how much others noticed these things, outside of my husband. I’m a very high functioning person and always have been. To the outside world, I had my shit together, a great family and great career, blah blah blah. Internally, I was a mess. 

I decided I needed to stop drinking alcohol. So right before I turned 40, I just stopped completely. Partly to convince myself that I didn’t have an alcohol problem. But really because I was scared. Afraid that I would need to detox or worse — that I wouldn’t be able to stop. Afraid that my kids would grow up with an alcoholic mother. Afraid my husband would leave me. Afraid that I would disappoint my family, yet again.

Clearing my mind did many things for me, almost immediately. I developed an unstoppable curiosity to understand myself better, and I started to unlock layers of reflection and questions about my last 40 years. I also started to listen to my body and really care for it. Most importantly, I finally felt like my story wasn’t shameful but instead powerful. If it does bother someone, good for them that they’ve never had to experience these things — how lucky! Many people are struggling, and if I can help one person with my story, it will be worth it.

What I’ve learned in opening up to people recently is that I have more in common with people than I ever thought. By hiding my story, I was hiding myself. And now I am owning my story, my life — the good and the bad. 

I believe that story is what fuels connection. Connection is what fuels humanity.

Join me on my journey to create more connection and less judgment!