I am feeling....strange this week.
Strange is not quite right, but it is al close as I can come just at the moment. The weather has been all over the place, and my mood seems to mimic that.
Do you ever have a moment where you catch a glimpse of yourself in a mirror and have to look again, because the person you see is you, but not you at the same time?
That happened to me today. I had to look again, because the woman I saw is one I have only seen a few times in my life; she is the woman I want to be. She is the voice in my head telling me that there is a better way, a higher way, than the way I am taking now. She tells me that I can get there, she tells me to keep going, especially when things are hardest.
I have been thinking a great deal recently about what it means to be an adult. I will be thirty-one this summer, and have a sister who is ten years my junior. She is emphatic about how she Is An Adult, capital letters audible. I know, without a doubt, that I felt rather the same way when I was her age, but I am not sure I was so rude about it. I understand her desire to not be treated like a child, she is not one. But, again, I am not sure she really knows what it means to be an adult either. She demands to be heard, but does not listen. She hates that our mother is passive aggressive, but uses the same tactics in a manner that seems so calculated, which our mother has not.
She and I had a fight recently, and she was asserting that she had a right to defend herself, but refused to allow that I had the same right. I admit that I was very angry and tired, and am certain I was coming across much more harshly than I intended, but was not attacking. She attacked me before I finished a sentence, sure of what was coming out of my mouth. My tone was wrong, but she was wrong to attack. And I got defensive, when I should have walked away. I knew I was wrong, and I apologized for being angry. She kept yelling.
It is almost funny, she sees that she had to defend herself, but cannot see that my angry response was me defending myself.
That woman I saw in the mirror today, the one I want to be, she would know what to do. She would know how to let go and move on.
But I am not her, and I am having the hardest time letting go of this.
I am so tired of being misunderstood, and of not being able to fully understand.