The Old New Me

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Photo by Mary Violet - Getty Images

Woman burning sparkler at city street fair

This is the time of year when many of us resolve to craft some version of a “new me.” In our efforts to do so, we employ all manner of approaches to behavior change, like instilling healthy habits, embracing a positive attitude, practicing various self-help fixes, and the like. All well and good if one can pull it off, but we know most New Year’s resolutions are gathering dust by the middle of February. So, when Sara began explaining her distress at our first session, I expected she was in search of that proverbial next best self. I was wrong.

“I don’t want a new me,” she explained. “I want the old one.”

This middle-aged mother and healthcare professional was in a longstanding funk characterized by melancholia, cynicism and a pervasive inner disquiet. Successful in her career and settled in her familial role, she remained at odds with herself.

“I don’t like this angry, unhappy person I’ve become,” was how she put it. “I was a happy kid. I know we can’t go back, but if I could, I’d hang on to who I was.”

Success, Disappointments

When I asked what changed her, she enumerated the usual suspects—heavy expectations, task overload, chasing success, responsibilities, disappointments and the rest. Her remarks reminded me of a line from an Indigo Girls song: “We’re sculpted from youth, the chipping away makes me weary.” Many of us can relate to that sentiment. The erosion wrought by life’s many challenges and bouts of suffering can rob people of what they consider their best attributes.

“What have you lost?” I asked.

In her youth, Sara was optimistic, creative, playful and outgoing. As she put it, “I loved life,” whereas, in her adult mindset, as she said, “I tolerate life.” Many who have soured on existence despite earlier years characterized by positivity earn labels like “depressed” or “burned out.” While perhaps applicable, these terms tell us little about an individual’s unique history and challenges. For such folks, looking back at their brighter years only magnifies their distress, as playing the comparison game often does.

“It’s true we can’t go back to who we were,” I told her. “But we can reclaim parts of ourselves from the past and bring them into who we are now.”

Reengage and Reawaken

This process is standard procedure for many folks when they retire. They re-engage with early life pursuits—playing music, painting, writing poetry, woodworking, crafts, collecting—basically, any activity that once fueled enjoyment, creativity and curiosity. Within their psyches and souls, they reawaken long dormant feelings, perspectives and attitudes. This isn’t a targeted “new me” resolution focused on acquiring some capacity, appearance or mental state, which often stems from an “I should” mindset rather than an “I want to” one.

When I asked Sara to recall pursuits from early in her life that lit her up, those in which she became fully absorbed with her beginner’s mind, singing, piano and playing in her doll house topped the list. While not easy, she made space in her life to begin regaining some of what she had lost. Not just the activities, although they provided a vital conduit, but also the curiosity, creativity and sense of aliveness that characterized her youth. Soon, she began refresher piano lessons, joined her church choir and, yes, built and decorated a doll house, one prominently displayed in her home office. More followed.

It’s true, we can’t go back. The person we were is gone, replaced with one sculpted by time and experience, sometimes harshly. But we can pick some of the pursuits that gave our lives the newness and zip that made youth such a vital, growing time, and bring them into who we now are.

Sometimes, I learn more from my clients than they do from me. Sara inspired me. Her New Year’s resolution is now my own. If it feels right to you, consider joining us.

For more, visit philipchard.com.