Mostly Just an Idea

I saw something recently that said, "Seeing me in person hardly ever happens, I am mostly just an idea." 

It made me ask myself - How much of us exists in other people's minds versus who we actually are?

The idea other people have of you. No idea is the same. No interaction is the same. The people around me form a complete story from incomplete information. Someone at work knows one version. A longtime friend knows another. Someone who only sees Instagram gets another. Someone who has heard a story about me may have constructed an entire version without really knowing me at all. All things that I now realize are none of my business. 

Then there is also the idea I have of myself. Who I want to be and try to be. She is fun, lighthearted and full of energy. The involved and engaged Mother, hard worker, reliable friend, and at one point a loving Wife. I try so hard to show up consistently, lead with empathy but lately, I haven't always been her.

A different version of me is currently trending. She's quieter. A little more guarded. Sometimes distracted. Probably a little less fun. But I don't think she's here to stay. She's a season. And as seasons come and go, I'm realizing that somewhere along the way, one of those versions of myself became harder and harder to maintain. Eventually, maintaining her started compromising the others.  My happiness. Parts of my personality. Things I wanted. Things I needed.

I compromised a lot until it came down to my children. Then I could no longer compromise. Then a new idea formed. I can be all these things minus one. Maybe losing one identity doesn't mean losing yourself. Maybe sometimes it's how you find your way back to the others.

Then there's the version people actually get. I've spent a lot of my life wanting to be understood.

Wanting people to know my intentions. Wanting the whole story to be known before anyone formed an opinion. Wanting to correct versions of me that didn't feel accurate. I'm starting to understand that I don't actually have to. People are allowed to have their idea of me. I am allowed to know myself.

Maybe that's one of the quieter freedoms of getting older. I don't need to chase every version of myself that exists in someone else's head and introduce her to the real me. She can live there.

I'll be over here actually living. Mostly in person. Occasionally on the internet. Apparently still searching.

— KM