Lindsay as a work in progress

I”m not the Lindsay you knew way back when.

Some people may remember a Lindsay who went out to clubs and restaurants with friends, a woman who would hang out at other people’s houses for days on end. I’m not that person anymore. Truth be told, i was never all that comfortable in loud places – i could never hear anything being said, and felt like i couldn’t speak loudly enough to be heard. The more people there are, the less comfortable i am. I like my own space. I’m an introvert: i enjoy time spent alone – it’s how i recharge my batteries.

Some people may remember a Lindsay who could talk on the phone for hours at a time. I used to like talking on the phone, and then i started doing tech support for a living. Half of a tech support job is making small talk while computers reboot or while antivirus programs do their thing. Nowadays, it’s hard for me to pick up the phone to call someone – even if i really want to talk with them, hear how they’re doing, or tell them that i’ve been thinking about them. Gods bless the internet, because it’s a means of keeping contact with loved ones that does NOT involve phones; an e-mail can be written and sent anytime, whereas phone calls ought to be restricted to non-working or non-sleeping hours. But i’ll admit, i’m not so great at that. I tend to forget there’s a world of people outside of my field of vision. While i used to ignore people out of anger, these days a lack of contact is usually nothing more than sheer forgetfulness – a lack of awareness of the passage of time. That is something that i do try to work on, and it’s not easy.

Some people may remember a Lindsay who wasn’t thin, but wasn’t what you’d call fat, either. I am Officially Fat, and have been for some time. I’m not insulting myself here, just stating a fact. On one hand, i’m no longer inclined to view “fat” as an insult, but as a description – it has no more inherent moral value than tall, short, round or square. On the other hand, i do still have my own self-image issues, as do many people. Those issues have also changed over the years: i’m no longer as concerned about how my belly or upper arms look: i’m more concerned about how my body functions – or how it doesn’t. My health is by no means horrible, but it’s not great either. Fibromyalgia keeps me sore and tired just as often as not, and endometriosis has all but guaranteed that i’ll never pass that on to the next generation. But at the same time, learning to live with those things have taught me how to better take care of myself. I’m better at listening to my body, better at understanding what it can or cannot do, what it does or does not want.

These are but a few examples to show that Lindsay of 10 years ago doesn’t exist anymore. The Lindsay of 5 years ago disappears a little more every day, every week. This Lindsay is a continuous work in progress.

Some people who’ve known me a long time may not see the changes that have occurred, or may not understand how and why those changes have come about. They may be seen as negative things, misinterpreted as having been imposed on me by others. One thing about me that has remained true over the years: i’m not keen on being told what to do, or what to not do. That rebellious streak is less reactive, less self-destructive, but i assure you that it’s still there. The minute i think someone is trying to pin me down, i’m Done. I’m outta there.

Some of the changes may come across as upsetting or depressing, but the Lindsay i am now is a happy Lindsay. I’m married to a wonderful man who loves me – not in spite of all of my idiosyncrasies and faults, but as a whole person. Good and bad, better and worse, in sickness and in health. I’ve long believed that love doesn’t change a person into someone they’re not: it makes them more of who they really are. The Lindsay i am now is more Lindsay than i was a decade ago. I can honestly and openly be who i am, without fear of reprisal or withdrawing of affection.

I remember being a very young Lindsay, a child who would rather curl up in a quiet room with a book, a Lindsay who felt awkward at social gatherings and just wanted to go off by herself. A Lindsay who didn’t understand why she seemed to experience more “growing pains” than any of the other kids around her. I think back on her sometimes, and wish i could tell her that in a whole bunch of years, she’ll get to be herself. She’ll understand more of what’s going on around and inside her, and she’ll be comfortable in her own skin. She’ll have good and bad times, healthy and unhealthy relationships, friends that come and friends that go… and she’ll learn so much from all of those experiences. They’re all Worth It. Chances are, she wouldn’t really understand the depth of all that that entails; i’d have to make do with a “just get through this, kid, and you’ll be okay.”

I remember a Lindsay in her early 20s, a young woman on an emotional roller coaster: intense relationships (good and bad); health issues getting worse, but finally getting names (and treatments) for the causes; loving and losing, and feeling it all perhaps just a little too much. If i could go back in time, i wouldn’t tell her a single thing: i’m a firm believer in giving no spoilers. I wouldn’t want to ruin the surprise of how wonderfully her life will turn out for her. I would want her to experience all of the joy and heartache, the frustration and relief, all so that she can learn from them. All of those things made me who i am today, and i like the person i see in the mirror.

I look at myself now, at this Lindsay of present times. Sometimes i still don’t feel like i know who i am, but i’m okay with that: it’s that feeling of not knowing that spurs on the desire to find out, to learn more. I know myself better than i did five years ago. Five years from now, that same statement will be just as true.