Sometimes, people talk about seeing your own life from a stranger’s perspective.
But we can’t really do that, can we?
We are crowded by our own thoughts, memories, opinions, and biases. It’s not really possible to disengage, float high above your own head and observe what’s been going on with that same sort of unengaged curiosity you would to other people.
But then I just did.
The Pioneer Woman asked in this post last month whether we are where we imagined ourselves to be ten or twenty years ago. Are we exactly where we wanted to be? Do we mourn the unrealized plans in our lives? Or are we happy where we are?
Somewhere amongst the 1700+ comments she received was some tidbit I wrote.
I wrote something, and then proceeded to forget that post, let alone whatever it was I wrote, ever existed.
So I logged on again today to read her latest entry. It’s a little hodge-podge of the replies she’d received to the first post. (I highly recommend it. A good, touching, inspiring read.)
And I read that post with that same sort of curious disconnect. Some are sad, some are funny, some are touching.
I was reading down to the forth paragraph under the second photo when I thought, “Hmmm…interesting. I was 7 years old 20 years ago too!” And then I read some more, and thought, “Hmmm…funny, coz this is sorta like me….”
Reading it, I was sort of going, wow, what a pity…I don’t want to live that life. Ok. Right. Next paragraph.
And somewhere in my brain, something went “ding!” and I suddenly realized it was none other than me who wrote those damn words.
I’d been looking at my own life as some sort of curiosity! It was quite a shock to your sense of perception. And, like a dream, or a deja vu, try as you might to go back to that feeling, to go back to where you didn’t recognize yourself…you can’t. It’s gone. That paragraph has already made the connection to you.
Curious thing is, I am typing this now in the same office, and on the same computer, that I used to send in that reply to her first post.
If I thought the person who wrote that was sad, why am I still here?
(Note: I wrote this yesterday. Before I decided to hit publish today, a total stranger who’s somehow made the connection between my comment on PW and here, left a few words about this in yesterday’s post.)