I was sitting at a table amidst a group of smart, charming and interesting people. It was an introduction that had come about through this blog as a few of them read along. There was a surprising breeze on the outdoor terrace perched next to the Rhone in Arles. It played with the wisps of our hair and lifted the conversation to and fro. But honestly, I was talking a lot – quite the rarity as I have grown nervous in groups during recent years. I think it was born out of the delight and relief of being amidst people roughly my own age and culture (highly unusual), a kind of letting go, on top of the fact that I had already been talking for hours while giving one of my walks through Arles. Maybe it was the heat running over my forehead but I could hear my voice beside me as if the words were spooling outwards trying to catch the breeze. Or it could have been the rosé that was generously being poured. But there was a moment, just the tiniest of ones, when I happened to catch – literally – the glance out of the corner of an eye of one of my table-mates. And somehow I instinctively knew that it was – enfin – a recognition of something that they had been hoping to see in me, based on what is written here.
Those of you that have been reading a very long time know that I moved around quite a bit in childhood – every four years or so – and the result of that can be a push and pull within me of wanting very much to be liked or the reversal on a dime of “I don’t need anyone” (but you, Baby). Like a lot of people who lived through such moments of blur and constant newness, I adapted. But that left me a bit rough around the edges. I didn’t always know where the extension of me ended and where my absorbing the company around me began. That survival tactic ended quite abruptly – or so I thought – during my young adulthood, something that I wrote about a few years ago, hence this is a “part deux.”
But here is the thing. I recently reread that post – written in 2011 – and I have a different perspective on both it and myself now. Since then I have mused a ton about the shifting and shedding of personality. The cult of it too in our society. I thought that, especially in these past few years where so much has happened – where we have down-sized twice and moved out into the silence of the country – that I was stripped down to the bone, left with only the essentials. So much gone but also so much gained. What it might be like to be a white bird in the snow. But that side-glance was like a tiny prick in a balloon. Enough to let out the air but not to make it pop. I have been chewing on the questions it awoke in me ever since.
Who are we when we make our way through the world? Where does the how of it come from? I want to ask these questions again. Is that always an extension of our inner selves? I don’t know if it is. Or maybe it is for most people but not necessarily for an adapter like me. Actually, during that conversation at the table I told an anecdote about when I was an actress and not wanting to do film anymore after seeing my face during the rushes for the first time and thinking, “But that isn’t me, that face doesn’t represent at all what I feel.” That and I had a memory that floated down like a feather from nowhere last week. It was of the head costumer at the Yale School of Drama saying, “Well, it is for you because you are a girl that knows how to wear a gown.” Just that. And I haven’t been able to shake that sentence because he was right, I did. And I do? It certainly wouldn’t appear so as I am today in tank top and shorts, legs crossed at the angle of a number four. With all of the weight that I have gained in the past few years my body feels heavy. Quite masculine.
And where does that come from? Well, here is the answer I have from some of those questions – beyond the weight which is my own – I think it comes from Remi. Or, to be more precise, in my not, finally, being so reduced to the essential as I thought but – without thinking – picking up on his way of doing things, of moving, of expressing. Truly, when I had that thought earlier today I was like, “Oh come on, really?” but it makes sense and not just from a “couple who have been together forever” standpoint. Me, still a chameleon then, still adapting. Is that a bad thing? It hasn’t always been as that flexibility helped me be a decent storyteller. And while I have definitely become ultra aware of that roughness around the edges – certainly since that conversation – maybe I can use that to my advantage to make the changes that will make me feel…better. And then I can redefine that feeling as something more akin to…porous?
Remi and I will be celebrating a big anniversary (that I am quite proud of) in a few days and I have a birthday around the corner so I imagine this post is coming right out of that pressure of time passing and hoping to get some truth from it. I hope that doesn’t sound too pretentious, I don’t mean it to be. As I have been writing I have been trying to put these pieces together – not only for me but for you as well just in case it rings a bell. But does it? In reading the comments of that earlier post, it seems like this is an issue that most of you tidied up long ago. And while many of us have been writing about the changes to our appearance mid-life (can I begin to tell you how I loathe that phrase?) that isn’t really what I am trying to roast over the fire either. For me, it seems like I am not always connecting the dots between my inner and outer self. That is good to know. More to learn then and the best part is…as far my inner self is concerned? That feels mine and true and as solidly delineated as a child’s roughly shaped drawing of a heart.
As a child, I moved no less, and sometimes more, than every year, until I was 11. Sometimes two schools in a year. Yes, my mother was a bit disturbed, and it was just her and me. Talk about having to adapt! It made it very easy for me as an adult to meet new people, and deal with new situations. It also made me somewhat unwilling to engage, as no one was around for very long. Fortunately (or not) I am not particularly sensitive or artistic, so I was able to deal with all of it. I'm technically elderly, and have been living in the Languedoc for several years, planning to make a move to Provence and start a new business with a friend. So I guess I've managed to cope. And so have you.
what a fruitful combination, to be courageous and articulate, at the same time. this post is special and so much resonates. tho my thoughts are blurry like a dream minutes after waking. it's good to be "recognized" (enfin). happy happy birthday and anniversary to you my friend.
P.S. Not sure if I responded to Part 1, but just wanted you to know, no matter what I said or say now, I'm not yet "tidied up" and I'm hoping that that's a good thing! Ebb and flow, change and static non-movement, highs and lows, life is kind of like a river.
And wonderful comments too. Sixty knocked me over the head. I was still wondering what I wanted to be when I grew up. I guess bottom line is we're all struggling to get through this life. We must be kind to one another, but take time for ourselves too. Introspection is tricky at my age. I try to avoid that, but then again I'm married to a psychologist who says it doesn't matter why, just what to do about it and this all makes little sense, but I'm old enough not to care.
Thank you for sharing yourself with us – introspection really gives us all much 'food for thought.' Regardless of where it takes us whenever we decide to peer inward and outward, the key I think is to be gentle with ourselves and I think you have shown that you've got it! You are brave, powerful, kind, and gentle! Many, many happy returns for your lovely anniversary with Remi and for your very own birthday!!
My first thought was, "What a courageous post!" Then I realized that this is one of the benefits of maturity, standing full front, looking in the mirror at what really is, and not what we hope to see…and letting others see it too, because, even though we may still have questions and unresolved emotions, we are comfortable with who we are. And though we may always be a work in progress, we move forward from that comfortable place, because we have learned to trust ourselves. Beautiful, thoughtful post, Heather.
Wow. Lots to think about here, and I will be re-reading this one, I think! I have been musing a LOT about my youth, what went right, what might have gone wrong, where do I go from here as I am now in "the youth of my old age". What age and the inevitable change that occurs to women, the loss of a certain "femininity" (your comments about weight ring very true to me) and yet, I am more comfortable in my own skin now more than ever. I am more honest with myself, and with others. I am kinder, I think. It never stops, this self discovery, does it? Thank you for this food for thought! I'm gonna go pour myself a glass of Rosé and have a ponder.
Whew, wow…. lots to think about here, Heather. I do think there is a core of ourselves that is developed when we are very young that we may deviate from outwardly that always remains, as you say, "as solidly delineated as a child's roughly shaped drawing of a heart." In fact, in a weird coincidence, just this morning I was talking to my husband about some old, old friends who have had a hard life because they got into and then stayed in the wrong relationship. And he said, he could never see me doing that. And I said I never could stay with someone if it wasn't right. For all of my inferiority complex, I was strong enough to be alone rather than be dishonest with myself. And that is at my core from childhood as well as some other things, too. Too, too much to say in a comment. A lot tied up with my father (okay, now I'm really on the couch!) who taught me to doubt myself and who I have been trying to write about for months now. Aaagh…
I think we must be able to adapt and change, and yet there are things inside us that make us who we are and that stay with us our whole lives.
Congratulations on the upcoming anniversary and birthday! And, I suspect, that you have had as much influence on Remi as you say he has had on you. It's a partnership!
As I don't expect to live more than 140 years, mid life is a long gone era. But it was perhaps "mid life" when I became a Diplomat, lived on three continents and more countries. I found myself climbing slippery hills pre dawn, in the rain forest, to try to see/ hear the waking Indri, when I was 60. Flat lined in all mod cons USA in January. And am amazed and delighted to be alive now: proud of the years and experiences. Celebrate who and how you are. There's nobody like you, Heather.
One of the exciting "Positives" regarding our connection in this new world of technological wonder is the gift of participating in one another's personal growth .. enjoying the highs, feeling the lows, sharing our common humanity. Congratulations, Heather, on what is an obvious milestone period of your life .. et Merci for sharing a special and personal moment with us.
Mahalo et Merci,
Bill
http://www.kauai-to-paris.com