I found my class ring. Apparently we can learn from this when I graduated, what my school colors were, that I was a cheerleader and into academics. Not much about who I WAS in high school.
I felt a lot of feelings this week. I'm on the cusp of 40, I had a novel out this year for the first time, my daughter is suddenly looking 15 instead of nine, I started training in July for a half-marathon next April and have had subsequent body changes, my colitis finally got diagnosed, I had a lump in my breast that turned out to be harmless, my husband is a full year distanced from unemployment. These are all good things, but this week I've cried more than I did all year, and whether they are tears of fear or relief -- I can't tell. My husband says I have a chronic case of What Have You Done for Me Lately with my accomplishments. He's right. I've already started trying to deflect that with the little angel by trying not to describe her to people by what activity she's in. My parents didn't do that to me, but I've always had trouble not measuring myself against some nonexistent doorframe where the marks are just lines to everyone but me. I'm always checking to see if I've grown, and I'm devastated if I haven't.
I am not what I do. I am who I am. Why am I still having so much trouble with that truth?