#31: Grow.

I am not who I used to be.

When the pandemic hit and the world shut down, I closed my brand new brick and mortar co-working space to ‘wait’ for the pandemic to pass, convinced that I could make it out the other side with my dream intact. As the days turned into weeks, the weeks turned into months, and the months turned into years I watched my dream slowly slip away, I watched the walls I had built crumble, I witnessed the life I had created for myself disappear.

Photo from inside my co-working space during lockdown, taken by Amy Thompson Photography

There have been many times on this journey where I wished things had gone differently, where I wished that other version of my life was still available, where I wished I could just hit rewind. Instead I have been forced to sit with that loss, that disappointment, that heartbreak, that not so subtle undoing.

In many ways I have been here before, letting go of my career and the identity that came with it, but this loss feels different, this loss feels bigger, this loss feels harder. I have come to believe that the things we go through ultimately prepare us for the next part of our journey, the next phase of our lives, the next versions of ourselves, the next season, the next chapter, the next dream. I have also found that the more significant the experience, the more painful the loss, the more important those lessons are for our individual growth.

The thing that has been the most difficult to overcome was not the loss of my space, or the loss of the money I invested, it is the loss of that prior version of myself - the version that had built something out of nothing, the version that had dug herself out of staying home, the version that so desperately wanted to help other mother’s to do the same.

I have spent the past few years straddling the in-between, stuck between what once was and what hasn’t yet come to be. Somewhat convinced that when the pandemic lessened I might be able to get back to the work I once did, not quite ready to let go of my dream completely and therefore blocking the ability for anything truly meaningful to take its place. I recently learned that exact opportunity might exist and the simple act of daydreaming about the the possibility of re-inhibiting that prior version of my life has set me free. While I wanted to say yes and tie my story up with a neat little bow I couldn’t, that version of my life is officially complete.

The truth is the act of in-person togetherness, the thing I originally set out to create gives me anxiety, a mere picture of women sitting together in a room can trigger me in ways I can’t quite explain. The thing I once enjoyed so damn much, gone. Perhaps this is a traumatic response to what I experienced or perhaps this is the universe’s way of pointing me in a different direction, I might never know.

As much as I would love to return to that pre-pandemic version of myself, the one who believed whole-heartedly in bringing women together in real life, who set out to be part of the solution for women looking to pursue work in the midst of motherhood, the one who risked everything to build a better path for mothers, I cannot. And with this realization comes another thought, the only path available for me is forward, it is time to leave the past behind.

My life looks nothing like I thought it would, very few parts of my pre-pandemic self still exist. What I needed before is entirely different than what I need now. What I wanted before, looks nothing like what I want now. I am not who I used to be. I am not who I used to be. I am not who I used to be. All this to say that most days I barely recognize myself - she is no longer me, I am no longer her, but if I am not her, then who am I?

With that chapter closed, that dream dead, I am free to begin again. To once again reinvent myself, to build a completely different life than the one I left behind, not because I do not care about my community or because I have turned my back on what once mattered to me, but because this is what I need to feel safe. This is the only version that seems to fit, for me, for now. This is what I need to honor the loss, to allow myself to grow, to truly let go.

Change is hard, growth is scary, transformation is terrifying and yet, I get to decide how my story ends. One of the biggest burdens I have had to carry is the realization that I have undoubtedly hurt people along the way, either because they misunderstood my need for change or because they preferred this prior version of me, either way I must live with that loss.

When I closed that dream, when I quit that version of me, when I let go of everything I hoped my life might be, I chose myself. It is time I honor that choice and reinvent myself yet again.