Re-Membering Who We Are
I was speaking to a friend of mine the other day, and she happens to be going through a divorce. She's in her mid-fifties, and has started to question what her life has been about. It's not uncommon for anyone in this type of situation to do this; I had my own self-discovery moments after the death of a loved on, for example. But what is unique about her position is that she spent years of her life - several decades in fact - creating an identity for someone else, and that someone has now decided they want something different, and that new something doesn't include her.
My friend graduated from college several decades ago and married early. Her husband elected to pursue a career in aerospace engineering, and managed to achieve several milestones during their years together. He is relatively well-known in his field of choice. She elected to stay at home and decided against having a career. They never had children.
I can already hear the "tsk tsk" clicking of feminist readership, and the wagging finger of disapproval from others who might criticize her choice. I would be remiss if I didn't say that she, too, regrets her choice now - but only because an external factor drove her to such regret (namely, in this case, his departure from the marriage). Not even two years ago, shortly before the pandemic, my friend had zero regrets about her choices - she was in fact quite happy. She was able to manage a lifestyle that some of us aspire to, and she felt as if she'd accomplished quite a lot during her life. If things had continued in the same way, she would likely never be asking these hard questions of herself now. Now, however, her partner has chosen a different path, and she finds herself standing holding the remnants of a life that once was hers, but can be no longer. And of course, she questions what she made decisions early on that led her to this place. Any of us would do the same in this case.
But it occurred to me as I was chatting with her that the root of all the discord and misery that she is currently experiencing is likely not actually found in the departure of her partner. While that certainly triggered it, I think her crisis was actually much sooner in life. I believe - based on her current regrets - that she chose a path early on that wasn't likely her first choice. It wasn't her passion. It wasn't her dream. She was instead latching onto the identity of someone else, sensing a security that might not otherwise have been available to her, and so she chose what seemed least difficult. Except many years later, she finds now that her choice wasn't what led to her ultimate happiness, and she wishes now she had chosen differently.
Such is choosing, is it not? We can - on any day - choose either to do or not to do. And each choice provides us with an outcome. But I wonder sometimes what choices we would make if we didn't place such importance on outcomes? If my friend hadn't felt that income and security were important, would she have chosen differently? And while we're at it, what leads to our happiness, anyway? Is it outcomes? Or is it the moments in between, where we're smiling and laughing...and living? I think we need to remember that happiness isn't an outcome, it's a decision. It's a choice in the moment. Intentional living. The instantaneous capturing of a fleeting thing that cannot be held or tamed by us, but which rests itself on us for only individual moments, like a camera reel capturing motion. That is happiness.
My friend will be alright. She's getting through just fine. But her situation makes me understand more deeply the need to remember who we are - to root ourselves so deeply into the essence of our being that we do not rely on others to identify us. Remembering, to me, is the opposite of dismembering - which is the pulling apart or tearing apart of something. Re-membering, then, is putting it back together, making it whole again; turning it into one single unit.
I want to work on my own remembering. I hope you will too.