Who Am I Now?

Me. No filter. No makeup (ever). June 4, 2024.

Tuesdays are normally a hive of activity for me. But today it is eerily quiet (except for the birds). All the things I thought I had to do got canceled. And it’s the aftermath of a Big Event. My youngest daughter graduated from high school this past weekend. And all my kids and grandkids were home. Even my two remaining siblings were here. I spent the few weeks leading up to it doing everything I could imagine to get the house and garden cleaned up, repaired, and spit spot. The weekend was a total success! Everyone got home safely. And now here I am wondering, like I have often wondered after endings both happy and sad…Who am I now?

I have been a mother for 42 years. When you have a kid at 20, you don’t get a chance to figure out who you are before there is another person to raise, so you figure it out together. My self-identity changed with every situation I faced. Or to be more specific, every traumatic situation or major change, of which there were many. I have already packed into my life so many things, driven by a sense of urgency that has no known cause other than death itself.

But here I am, in this eerie quietude, with a wide open blank canvas of possibilities staring me in the face.

Who am I now?

Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know the usual answers: writer, gardener, music lover, cook, artist. And I know for sure some things I never want to do again: manage people or start a new business or non-profit. But this is more like an existential crisis. Who AM I now? And who do I want to be going forward? For whatever reason (kids, parents, relationships, duty) I never felt like I had the freedom to decide on my own. I always had to consider the others around me, which is not a terrible thing, by the way. And it’s given me many blessings and gifts.

All this is combined with a moment in my spiritual path when I have stopped “seeking” answers outside of myself or in other people and am trying to listen to the whispers inside me, in the spiritual microbiome within. I remember learning about the “effortless effort” as a teenager and being mystified by it. But now it resonates. We are conditioned to believe we must struggle, hustle, and push ourselves to succeed. What if we don’t? What if by doing less, we accomplish more?

That’s kind of how I feel about climate change. Sometimes, when I’m at the supermarket or a CVS the former CEO in me goes into strategic efficiency mode and looks at all the unnecessary products in excess packaging and just thinks if we eliminated 50% of the products that aren’t necessary or healthy and the packaging, manufacturing, and distribution that goes with it we would all be better off. (And the switch to Regenerative Organic Agriculture too, obviously.) So much unnecessary waste. Why can’t we just stop? Stop. But I’m not the boss of the whole world, just my own world. And today that world is quiet and calm and even though I don’t know what to do, I know that by allowing the space the answers will come.

I suppose this is technically considered retirement. I still remember when we decided to sell the publishing business and I gave an exclusive interview to a reporter from the Wall Street Journal who shall not be named.

“What are you going to do now, be a grandmother?” He asked.

“Fuck you,” I said silently in my head while I smiled politely. I love my grandkids dearly and strongly identify as a grandmother. But it’s not how I plan on spending my “golden years.” They have their own lives to lead, as do my three kids.

I know I should probably go for a walk and get my body moving. But the bone-deep exhaustion of accomplishing something so major has me glued to my couch. I get up to eat. To do a load of laundry. To write a few lines. This feeling of not knowing who I am now or who I might become next is unfamiliar to me. So I will just go with the flow and see what unfolds, see where the river takes me.

In the meantime, please enjoy these pictures of my incredible garden that is thriving with my new no-weeding method. Everything bloomed at least a week earlier than usual, but bloom it did. And will keep on blooming. Like me!

PS. A special welcome to all my new subscribers that came in through Elizabeth Whitlow’s newsletter. Thanks Elizabeth!