I read about the concept of being “self-possessed” today. A self-possessed person is one who remains calm, confident, and in control of her emotions no matter where she is or what is happening to her. A self-possessed person maintains clear thinking under stress and knows exactly who she is and what her role is in every situation. She is a mature adult.
Bah! Bah ha ha!
I burst out laughing at this.
I’m the exact opposite of self-possessed. I’m the woman the self-possessed woman drapes her arm around (in perfectly controlled and well-timed empathy) to help her remember herself. I’m the woman whose whole life is about corralling her wild horses of emotions. I’m the woman who couldn’t remain calm because calm isn’t part of her brain structure. She doesn’t think clearly because she’s too busy making metaphors or strange allegorical blog posts.
Today, I actually asked myself, “Who are you again? What are you about?” And I’m nearly 40.
I also did something completely age-inappropriate today; I asked my mother-in-law to buy me a net at the dollar store in town so I could catch turtles at the lake. I do not know other adults who do things like this.
And I never quite know what my role is. Am I the teacher here? Am I the writer or the reader? Am I the mom or the one needing a mom? Am I the girl or the woman? Am I the urbanite or the berry farmer?
Who am I, people? What am I about anyway?
This painful and wonderful collection of unruly and bizarre reactions, moods, roles, and thoughts is me.
I have not an ounce of self-possession. This, of course (ironically, beautifully) makes me a different, but not worse, kind of self-possessed.