To Lose Yourself

Life is a progression. It is a journey we are set on without our own consent but which we continue to tread without even knowing the end destination or when we’ll get there. We don’t know what twists and turns our path will take, or the number of crossroads we’ll reach, or which turns, if any, lead in the right direction, or even who will join us as we aimlessly wander or determinedly stride. We only know that we must keep on walking. And at various points on the path—maybe as we stumble across raised stones or as the path fades into a dirt trail and we question if we’ve taken the wrong route—we find ourselves reflecting back, analysing our choices, our decisions, our pivotal moments, and questioning how we’ve become this person when, once, we were something else.

I find myself analysing as I lie in bed each night. I have questioned: How am I this person? How have I lost sight of who I am? How have I lost myself? And I’m not even focusing on ways I’ve changed; I’m not considering the natural progression of a journey; how this rough, natural crystal became a polished, smooth, tumbled gemstone. I’m questioning how I let go of so much of what formed my core. I’m wondering how I allowed other people and my fundamental life decisions to distract me away from so much that I loved. Love. How did I lose the very life essence of myself?

Classical music I would listen to as I allowed myself to unwind after my day. The quiet storm. I would float off to somewhere almost ethereal, otherworldly. Vanessa Mae. Ennio Morricone. Michael Nyman. Jools Gianni. Pachelbel. Tchaikovsky. Bach. I can’t even pinpoint when I stopped listening.

Playing instruments. Violin and piano were so much of who I was. And the aspiration to learn flute was ever-present in my soul. I seem to have lost the dream somewhere, but it still burns deep inside me, even if only as an ember.

My love of crystals. I used to collect rough and tumble-polished crystals. My favourites were amethyst and rose quartz. I was fascinated and drawn in by their properties, by their depth. Their beauty reiterates how incredible our earth is and the wonder it can create.

I realise, when I reminisce, that I need to make a conscious effort to rediscover my passions, to reconnect and re-familiarise myself with the parts of my identity that haven’t changed, that have remained as they always were, but that perhaps have become lost amidst my decisions to become a mother, a wife, a businesswoman; those parts that might even have been overshadowed by life’s trials.

My next turn on this journey needs to be down pathways with streams; mirror glazes that allow me to reflect and see who I still continue to be deep inside. It’s all too easy to become lost and far removed from where we should be with just the tiniest of steps and movements. One small step here and one there, and then we find ourselves far from our starting point.

I don’t wish to rewind or to turn back time or retrace my steps; to wish that would undermine my life so far and the many different choices I’ve made. But when something sparkles and burns at the centre of your soul and you direct attention away from fuelling that fire, there comes a time when you realise the warmth will be extinguished altogether if the flames aren’t fanned. I feel like now is the time to rediscover.

I am so much more than who I’m pretending to be.



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