The Space Between Who We Are and Who We’ve Become

There are times when reflection can feel like entering a dark cave, peering into a deep pool and seeing yourself staring back like a mirror, yet it's someone you don’t recognise or know. For me, sitting in spaces that bridge both endings and beginnings is exactly like this. It can encourage you to question the things you thought you valued, recalibrate your self-worth and most definitely face the uncomfortable places where you might feel vulnerable.

This mirror of you can be both a version of yourself you have not met yet, as you are still on your way to becoming, and at the same time the truth of who you are when you got lost along the way, both/and. The cave gives shelter from the noise; the mirror asks us to look honestly at what is there, yet neither promises a flattering light.

This is just the reflection I have been wrestling with as I created something special that I wanted to share with the world. I realised not only did I need the very space I was creating for other women, but I was also nervous and feeling vulnerable because I was creating something that spoke to me deeply, while being asked to step out from behind many of my own roles and face my own truths.

I have been so used to being in motion, moving between all the different parts of my life that I have not always made space for what’s happening within me or hearing my own voice. I have become an expert in being the capable, dependable and strong one, the one who holds it all together. Yet, this in-between space that was not yet an ending, but equally not yet a beginning, demanded something more.

While exploring my own place in-between (I wrote about this here and here), three questions brought me to a screeching halt:

What happens when we become so good at looking after everything and everyone else that we stop noticing ourselves, when we lose ourselves in the lives, needs, dreams of others?

What happens when we turn around and face our truth, when we go beneath the surface and stop pretending and performing?

What happens when holding everything together becomes more exhausting than letting it go?

For all of us, I think there are things we can hold on to for a very long time: old grief, unexpected relief, words left unsaid and versions of ourselves that once kept us safe. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: I am Cancerian, and everything has to be literally pried out of my pincers as I cling on with tenacity, determination, ok, go on then, stubbornness. Eventually, though, I think the cost of holding on becomes too high for all of us.

Now I wish I could say that I had easy answers, or indeed any answers to these questions, but I don’t. However, I began to explore for myself just what becomes possible in the space between who I am and have been for everyone else, and who I am when I am simply myself.

I want to be clear because I don’t believe I have been intentionally inauthentic, although I shudder at using that term, as authenticity, while commendable, has been so overused. I also genuinely do feel I am an open book; what you see is what you get, and in that respect I am ‘the same person’ in all areas of my life.

But what I feel I am speaking to here is different. It is not about owning false selves; who we are, who we love, what we do, all of it matters. But when we stand in the busyness of life, the noise, the being needed, the juggling and the millions of stories and identities that we inhabit, if it all just stopped [and not because everything was finally done, because that may require a minor miracle], do we know who we are? Do we still count? 

Realigning our self-worth and just where we feature in our own life is not a rejection of love, care or partnership. It is an invitation to honour both self and others, rather than quietly disappearing from our own lives while making sure everybody else has clean pants, they are fed and watered, and the bills are paid.

In a world that celebrates speed, performance, and relentless doing, we are so often praised for momentum. But we’re rarely encouraged to pause, to rest, to be. Yet, we are all ‘human beings’, not ‘human doings’. Why is this so hard to remember?

Yes, of course, some things must get done, and life asks us to show up no matter what. But perhaps some of the expectations we've placed upon ourselves can be loosened. Some of the stories about who we are, the roles we have outgrown, and some of the things we simply do because we have become very good at doing them, are not what we want to take into this next season.

I know recently my own world became very much smaller for many reasons, and I freely admit that this was both needed and hard (again that wonderful paradox of both/and). I had the stop; I had the space, even though this was rather enforced on me, as so often happens in life. What I didn’t have was ‘the container’, and without that container I slipped back into the familiar patterns.

The metaphorical suitcase of ‘stuff’ I was carrying was emptied onto the floor with a huge, and rather loud thump. I frantically filled it again with whatever was close at hand. I filled it until it once again resembled an overstuffed beast that refused to move, or hibernate, while it groaned and squeaked as if it were trying to digest too many socks!

Don't get me wrong, I have been on my own journey, and I have learned so much. I have spent time preparing, gestating, changing and growing. And even when I felt I had emerged from that period, I still needed to test my wings and work out how this flying gig actually worked.

Apparently, emerging is one thing. Working out how to live differently afterwards is another. I know we have all experienced times when the masks, the stories, the identities are stripped away, and we consider what is left.

I sat in my dark cave staring at my reflection, coming to terms with the truths I saw of what is, and the possibilities and promises of what could be. I faced being vulnerable, stepping out of my comfort zone, and even asking for help, which is something I don’t find easy: capable, dependable and strong one remember!

I looked at how I connect with others, what I have in my life that is truly beautiful, where my balance and harmony reside, and truly, with all gloves and blinkers off, what I feel I am worth. I had a no-holds-barred look at where I trade away my personal power and compromise because I quite like being needed, liked and loved; even though I know these are not things that ever need to be earned.

And the thing is, I don’t think we even need to change these things if we don’t want to, not really. But there does come a time when caring for ourselves needs to stop feeling faintly rebellious while caring for everyone else remains entirely normal. Balance does sometimes require slowing down, self-care, boundaries and making time for ourselves, and that’s ok. It’s ok for our intentions to be about honouring both ‘self’ and ‘others’.

I've realised that this is probably part of what has been sitting underneath a lot of my thinking recently. It is also, rather unexpectedly, part of what has led me towards creating a women's circle. Not because I have discovered the secret to balance. I haven't. I knew the theory, and now I know the practice, but keeping it going- that’s for the long haul.

But perhaps that’s the point. I truly believe that in life we need to show up as we are, stay open and curious and just see what emerges. And, most importantly, we don’t have to do that alone.

Circle offers a place to reconnect with ourselves and one another, without performance, fixing or having the perfect answer. It’s a place to simply stop, listen and sit alongside other women for a while, who understand and really ‘get it’. Sometimes we do not need a grand reinvention. Sometimes we need a chair, a breath, a little honesty and the relief of being with people who understand the peculiar art of holding a lot.

That is the space I want to make more of. Perhaps because I know I need it too. You are warmly invited to join me there (details here).

With warmth and curiosity,

Johanna 

Curiously-U