If You Knew Me Then, You Don’t Know Me
It’s funny how people can assume that we are as we always were, that their version of us is who we will always be. But, you see, my change game is- and always has been- strong. Maybe it started out as necessity with every box packed, every house moved, and every time I was a new girl at a new school. But then it became a second skin. I could adapt. It was hard. But I could change if I had to.
I feel like my past is littered with other versions of me. Shy versions. Pious versions. Anxious me. Reckless me. All of these people I had to be to make my life, as it was, work. The full-time student and full-time employee, two roles co-existing in one tired individual. The full-time employee and wife and student, three roles working in tandem to drain my soul. The wife and, albeit briefly, stay-at-home mom. All of the people I’ve been and have left behind crowding the path I’ve taken to be here.
It’s strange how people can think that if they knew you then, they know you still. They try to make their version of you fit into the reality rather than accepting that none of us should ever stay the same- not if we’re growing and evolving beyond our childhood.
And those stories don’t always suit me. Of course they don’t. Sometimes the way I’m perceived isn’t what I’ve intended. Sometimes it isn’t even accurate to the reality of me. And yet it…
