The Outer Layers of Me
The first MicroblogMonday entry two Mondays ago was about whether people really change. My first, knee-jerk response was yes. I am not the person I was years ago. Things that used to phase me now don’t bother me at all, and things that I used to love now are anathema. Like camping. Ugh.
But the longer response is that at the core, I remain the same. Everything that makes me… Me. Like me with a capital “M.” My me-ness. Those things remain constant.
But that solid core is surrounded by softer and softer layers, until the outer leaves are as flimsy as romaine lettuce. Those outer leaves, the ones rubbing up against by the world, change massively over time, change in smaller ways day-to-day. It’s the outer layers that worry me, especially when I feel that the change is negative. That I’m losing a piece of myself that I once liked.
I feel like something clicked out of sync last spring, and I’ve been trying to get it back. But maybe it really is like lettuce. Maybe those outer layers need to be shucked, tossed aside. Because… you know… lettuce isn’t really repairable. Maybe the key to getting back to having outer layers I like to look at is to remove the damaged ones and move on, rather than trying to fix, smooth over, perfect.
Side note: Tomorrow is #MicroblogMonday once again. Get writing!