I’ve written before about a question that has haunted me since Joseph (my husband) and my daughter died: “Who Am I Now?”

Recently, at the end of a 7 week Meditation class, we were asked to tell others what gift they brought to the group. We were supposed to answer: “Thank you. I like hearing that.” I could get the “Thank You” out but choked on the “I like hearing that.” They gave me complements. They were saying I showed up and was sharing where I was. I was genuine. Why couldn’t I say that simple phrase? Why did I feel like I was an awkward teenager again?

On the way home it hit me!

As a kid, being myself was discouraged…you were supposed to fit in. I learned to lay low. Later, I made exceptions with my husband or with a close circle of trusted friends. With others, I hid behind my roles: consultant, caretaker…. My strength was in meeting the needs of others (individual, team or organization). It didn’t help, that as an Introvert, being around a lot of people spontaneously could be overwhelming. No time to think through/process my thoughts/feelings.

But now there’s just me, mostly retired. I’ve been choosing to focus on listening to what I’m experiencing. To honor whatever is happening. Can I stay with it and put it out there, even when imperfect and raw? Can I be me in this moment?

What hit me on the way home was by focusing on me, on being true to myself, I’ve left the safe ground of how I lived my life. I feel naked. Discombobulated. A vulnerable teenager again. I look to see if I’m fitting in…until I remember being true to myself is more important.

Living from this new place, I’ve questions. I see my inconsistencies, I see where my head knowledge hasn’t reached my heart knowing. It’s messy.

I’m inhabiting this new frontier with equal parts interest, disorientation, contentment and continued commitment to honor my true Self. And interestingly, I’m noticing that more often l love my life and I love being the only thing I can be….my Self.

“What was your job? It has been learning how to just follow my path.” from New Yorker’s Masha Gessen’s “Exit interview” with pioneering filmmaker and visual artist Barbara Hammer as she was dying from cancer.