I’ve been thinking about all the different people we are in a lifetime. Well, maybe not different people but we all play different roles during our lifetime. Some people see us in one way, others in another. Very few ever get to know all of us.
This thought began its germination when my father-in-law passed away. I listened to those who loved and knew him best and realized that they all knew him in different ways. The granddaughters he helped to raise knew him as a father figure. Other grandchildren knew him as a grandfather. All of them had such different memories and perceptions of him.
My husband’s ex-wife knew him from younger days as well as older ones. I only knew the older Alzheimer’s version of him. His children remembered the younger him as well as the older him. At times as they talked it seemed as if they were all talking about a different person. In a way, they were.
So, I began to think about the stages in my life. I pictured a group of people all gathered from my different years in a room talking about me. I could see confusion and arguments as each tried to reconcile the stories told by others with the me they had known. Whew!
People from my childhood probably remember a happy, helpful, imaginative, playful child. I played well with others and all by myself. Siblings probably remember the tense, scared, angry side that was always afraid to be at home. Cousins would remember a tempting, convincing child who taught them to snoop on adults, steal their liquor and instigated other types of troublemaking. None of them knew that I was carrying a deep dark secret…too huge for any child to carry.
Teachers would remember an intelligent , thinking child who always had her hand up and was never afraid to ask questions, often playing the devil’s advocate. High school friends would remember the funny, mouthy, daring, out there person who wasn’t afraid to stand up and be counted, and who usually spoke her piece regardless of who she was speaking it to. They would probably share stories about the wild, adventurous, seventies girl who was willing to try anything once. I was their hero but they were way too young to see the self- destruction and desperation behind the choices.
After high school I worked in nursing home settings, those people would remember an organized, efficient, caring, hard working young woman who insisted that those who worked with her were thorough in their care giving. They never got to see the drinking, drugging wreck I was at home.
Then I found the church and motherhood in the same year. And while I still privately fought my demons, I had help from God and a reason to carry on in my son. I found that happiness could be mine and I was a daughter of a loving Father in Heaven. Whoo-hoo! I never looked back! Those who knew me then remember a knowledgeable teacher, a willing worker, a devoted mom, and a great friend. I served in almost every position I could and gave birth to nine living children (and two dead ones).
My children, however, remember a crazy, unstable screaming meemie while I tried to do life with a crazy, controlling husband, my personal demons (which my husband exploited and fought hard to keep me from getting the help I truly needed) and a home that didn’t even have a bathroom until baby #6 was on its way. I hope they remember some good times because I tried so very hard but I’m afraid the bad times overshadow the rest.
And today, I’ve received the help I needed, married a wonderful man, have had a peaceful, “normal” life for at least three years. I’ve learned many new ways of coping with the world and again, the people that know me today would have a really hard time reconciling the today me with any of the others.
And so it is in all our lives. We all have so many different roles to play or maybe I should say hats to wear. Seeing ourselves from the eyes of those around us help us to develop completely. It’s supposed to be that way, don’t you think? Kind of like looking in those surround mirrors to see our whole body at once. That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?
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