I’m back to blogging. It was nice having a two week break. I did read all 1500+ pages of all my fall fashion magazines (didn’t see too many trends suitable for my age group…will catch up on those details in another post). I missed you all and I hope you missed me too. I’m back and I’m setting my new rhythm for fall.
I find that the fall season is always a time for reflection. It must be the Jewish New Year that makes me reflect. I usually reflect on the rabbi’s sermon during the holiday services. The rabbi’s words of wisdom somehow seem to touch me in a certain way that moves my spirit. His talk this year was about “becoming your authentic self.”
Rather than answering the age-old question of “what do you want to be when you grow up, you should ask yourself who do you want to be?” said the rabbi.
“When you strip away your career, who are you?” said the rabbi.
I felt as though the rabbi was directing his sermon to me, like he was having a conversation with me.
Have I not been working on this for the past three years, since my husband passed away and I became a widow?
Have I not been working on this for the past three years, since my children went off to work and college respectively?
Have I not been working on this for the past three years, since I entered therapy?
As I focus on my life at this moment, this very moment, I am finally starting to accept the little and big mind and body imperfections that come with age.
As I step back and look at my career, I am finally accepting that I am a talented corporate executive and have been for the past 25+ years. And I am working on answering the question that my therapist asked me a few weeks ago about “What motivates me to work so hard and what success means to me at this point in my life?.”
As I settle into my third year of finding my ‘authentic self,’ of being who I am and not who someone else wants me to be, I realize that finding my ‘authentic self’ is a journey.
Yes, finding my ‘authentic self’ is like a painting that is never finished. My true self is a work in progress.
I have come a long, long way since 2007 when I started counting down to my 50th birthday. I have come a long, long way since 2007 when I became a widow.
“Who am I?”
“Who am I?”
I am a caring, sensitive, truthful, person. I am a great mom, sincere friend, loyal and loving mate (was to my late spouse M and am now to my boyfriend L).
Oh, yes, I am a fashionista. Perhaps I am a frugal fashionista. (“How is your foot doing?” asked a colleague the other day as she glanced at my foot which no longer carried a black boot. “My tendon is better,” I replied, “but I am wearing flats.” “Those must be Fendi flats,” said my colleague. “No Fendi flats,” I replied, “They are Tahari.” Does she think I wear Fendi? Me wear Fendi? I was so flattered to think I am such a fashionista. I guess I should not be surprised. My name does end in an ‘i’ and so does Fendi.)
Oh, yes, I am a fashionista. It felt so good to step out into the crisp fall-like air and feel the cool breeze last night. It felt especially good to carry my new plum leather satchel and wear my purple suede flats bedecked with jewels. I felt like Cinderella who had found her perfect shoes (with her perfect mate). While the heavy satchel (which I adore) weighed me down, the purple suede flats with their rubber soles made me feel light and bouncy.
I felt ready to jump up and down and scream:
I’M A WORK IN PROGRESS. I’M READY FOR WHATEVER CHANGES LIFE THROWS IN FRONT OF ME OR ABOVE ME OR BELOW ME OR TO THE LEFT OR TO THE RIGHT.
But, please life, don’t let it rain. I don’t want my purple suede shoes to get wet right now.