25 years ago…
A 5-year-old girl with long brown hair, highlighted by the sun, and a smooth, tanned forehead, daydreams about her future. Her favorite animal is a toss-up between a pink flamingo and a unicorn (because they ARE real), but she desperately wants her own dog. Her favorite color is rainbow with a splash of glitter. She wears flowy, neon-striped dresses that twirl and bright paint-splattered leggings. A perm is not far on the horizon, but in the meantime, she wears bows and flowers with the fascination and care of a truly feminine soul. Her arms adorned with temporary tattoos, stamps, and chalk, she dances with abandon, with little thought as to how she’s perceived.
Her nearest dream is to become a big sister. Her grander dreams of writing books and painting the lilies in Monet’s garden are far enough away that she can fearlessly hold them close, fully believing that one day, she will listen to her heart’s call.
She feels her feelings and shares them with the world because she has yet to feel the shame of being too much.
She knows her truth, and she lives her worth because she has yet to question (or learn) otherwise.
75 years later…
An 80-year-old woman in a hospital bed (who has either aged gracefully or has decided to dye her hair all colors of the rainbow simply because she’s old and she can do what she wants) is remembering the past while living in the present. Arms adorned with tattoos and her face lined with wrinkles earned through a life of laughter, love, and loss, the impact of time is undeniable. However, she doesn’t want to deny it because each crease in her face marks the feelings and smiles of a life fully lived.
She is in the moment, even as she is running out of time. She makes space for the people she loves and the memories she treasures. She writes and paints as long as her shaking hands allow her to, less worried about the product and more present with the act of creating. She cherishes the memories of painting in Monet’s garden, even while she has embraced painting the beauty of what’s in front of her.
She feels her feelings and shares them with the world because she has learned that she is enough, even when she feels like she’s too much. Besides, there are worse things than being too much.
She knows her truth, and she lives her worth because she has found value in being present with the questioning, the messing up, and the receiving grace. She has lived, and now she lives fearlessly, even in the face of the unknown end.
Present day…
I just ended my third decade of life and I’m bounding into my 30s with a new doctorate (and the “fine lines” on my forehead to go with it). My hair is darker and my skin paler, because the winters are long and sun is scarce where I live now. I don’t have any tattoos yet, but maybe one day. Unicorns continue to make me smile, and not only do I finally have my own dog (two, in fact!), I have a new favorite color (green). Yet, that doesn’t stop me from embracing ALL the colors, any chance I can.
The transition from one decade to the next has been a season of choosing. Choosing a new job, a new home…choosing how to fill my time in this new life and decade. Choosing my people, and choosing how to love them well. Choosing how to love myself (fine lines and all). Yet, for me, with every choice comes the shame and the fear, the “shoulds” and “what ifs.”
Should I choose this job because it’s more practical?
What if I make the wrong choice? What if I hurt someone with the choice I make?
Should I try to please *insert random person here*? What if I can’t make them happy?
What if I fail? What if someone discovers that I’m not what they thought? What if I’m not enough or I’m too much?
In those moments of questioning, I have learned to ask myself this question instead:
What would Little Girl Miranda and Deathbed Miranda choose?
And as I’ve grown to know myself, I am more able to reflect on who I once was, before the shame crept in, and who I will be, once the shame and fear don’t have power over me. I can consult the truest versions of myself and attempt to live that truth in the present. I can draw courage from the little girl part of me that sees possibility in everything, including herself. I can find wisdom from the older part of me that understands that time isn’t endless, and living from a place of fear and shame takes away that precious time. When I go inward and consult these parts of me, I know my values. And with that, comes clarity.
Through their eyes, I am able to see the whole of my life free from shame and fear. They remind me that life is brief, and the time for painting, exploring, loving, and twirling is now. I owe it to them to take risks and find the joy that awaits. I owe it to them to try, even if I fail. I owe it to them to honor myself, remembering that in the honoring, I can help others honor their truest selves, too.
I owe it to myself to paint the blank canvases and write the untold stories…to embrace color and to love well. After all, what else would Little Girl Miranda and Deathbed Miranda choose?
_____
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I’ve been sitting with your post since last week. I was really moved by it. Really moved. I don’t often get “stopped” by articles..there are so many. But yours triggered something in me. I’m closer to the grave than the cradle (so weird) and this was such a good reminder that I can even be ok with being too much sometimes. I won’t take advantage of that, but, I have earned it…
Thank you for a gorgeous, gorgeous post!
Donna, I got a bit teary reading your comment! It feels sacred to witness my words having an impact on someone in this way. So thank you for giving me that gift. 🙂 I hope you keep embracing all of your beautiful enough-ness and (sometimes) too much-ness as you keep moving through this life.
Your post brought tears to my eyes as well. I am 25 and in a place of transition. With the loss that comes with transition I’ve been hitting fear of how to move forward. Fear does not deserve our attention and this post is such a great reminder of why
Karli, I am so honored that my words could move you to tears. It sounds like you are in the “quarter-life crisis” season of transition, which, for me, was absolutely terrifying and exciting, all at once. I wish you well as you move forward! I hope you can connect with the truest version of you as you move through this season! 🙂
joy@doublevisionblog.com
Hi Joy! For some reason, I was able to see part of your comment in the email I received… but it didn’t all show up, and apparently didn’t work here, either. Thanks for leaving a comment, though! I’m so glad that this post resonated with you on a deep level. 🙂
When I read this, I vividly see in my mind my sweet baby girl- twirling and dancing in the sun, so innocent and joy filled- my only desire- to shield my little one from the hurts and shame that life will bring. I’m so very proud of the young woman you’ve become despite the pain I couldn’t protest you from, so able to express yourself and to sit with others though their pain.
Keep twirling, little one. I love you.
P.S. I’m old. So I can say what I want! Mom
Typo. Protect, not protest.
I love the perspective of looking both back and forward though my experience is vastly different. I never remember being carefree, and I always minimized myself to make lots of space for others. When I look back, it is to tell my younger self that I am worthy to take up space, that I need to feel my feelings instead of deny them. When I look forward, I see a woman who has learned to live, to feel, and to be.
FYI, I don’t know if it’s my iPad or the way the article was sent, but the email was in teeny print that I had to greatly magnify in order to find the “read in browser” link.
Thank you, Carrie, for this different perspective. I love that it’s never too late to look back and give grace and love to our younger, hurting selves, and how in doing that, we can move forward with (and maybe even embrace) our worthiness. I’m glad you can look forward and see a woman who takes up space in this world!
Also, thanks for the FYI about the email! We are looking into it so that it doesn’t happen again.
This is a beautiful article! It brings tears to my eyes! At age 74, I have to say I truly regret NOT doing the things I might have done in my youth! May you inspire young people to “follow their dreams” !
Judy, I’m honored my words could make you tearful, and I’m grateful for this wisdom that you offer about a life well-lived and the things we might regret. Thanks for reading and for commenting!