One of the luxuries of growing older is that you can reflect on the past with some clarity. Or at least you can reflect on the past. The clarity, of course, is a matter of opinion.
Something that struck me recently is that I have lived my life behind a series of personas.
The term persona in Latin referred to a mask, not unlike what an actor would wear on the stage.
In my life, a persona was what I wanted others to see and believe about me. You could call it lying to others, but it was more complicated than that. I also believed the persona I adopted. I saw myself through the same lens that others saw me through.
Shortly after birth and right into my teenage years, I saw myself mostly as a victim. A victim of circumstance, a victim of situations, of fate, of others —and definitely of my parents!
I remember feeling daily that life was not fair. It was harder than I thought it should be. People seemed cruel and indifferent. Somehow, I had not managed to impress them enough to become the center of their attention on a consistent basis. Nearly everything calamitous appeared to be happening to me. Others seemed to be spared a similar fate.
As the years passed and I grew into a gainfully-employed member of society, my victim persona morphed into a martyr persona. Now I was a “sophisticated” victim. I felt hard done by, but my suffering took on a higher purpose. In due time, I told myself, God and others would recognize my willingness to serve and endure.
As I grew older and more experienced, I developed skills that I could use to help others. My martyr persona then gave way to a hero persona. I could save the day! People could come to me for anything: advice, help, encouragement, expertise, etc.
Eventually I went from hero to seeing myself as a saint —blameless and beyond reproach in every way. (This made me rather inflexible and arrogant, unfortunately)
Further on into my fifth decade of life, it became difficult to believe anything about myself with certainty. The many off ramps and twists and turns that my life had taken had clouded my view.
Metaphorically, my life now was a car engine in serious stages of disrepair. A series of parts strewn on a garage floor and me not knowing how to assemble them together again.
So who am I, really?
Today I see myself as a beginner in most things. I try to approach life without expectations or judgements. I strive to accept whatever outcomes I experience.
Thankfully, some wisdom does accompany old age.
It feels good not to be the centre of things, and to not control my own life story. For the most part, I can laugh at the “wardrobe of personas” I wore and eventually discarded.
In short, I’m finally learning to enjoy the ride.
My current goal? To be like that dog looking outside the car window whose main concern is to enjoy the view and dream about his next treat.
Wish me luck. The “dog persona” seems to hold a lot of promise!