Finding Myself, Underneath It All

My life feels like a trunk, found in an attic, lost long ago.

I feel like I am finally opened up after many long years, the lid is thrown back, light is flooding in and giving life to things long packed away.

There are clothes in here I haven’t worn in awhile. Pretty things that make the wearer feel light and sassy. There are hats and shoes some belong to another era, but for some reason when I try them on and look in the mirror, they are still stylish.

There are treasures of a life all safe and secure in this place. As I take out each outfit, I am reminded of what it symbolizes in my life, there is the dressing gown I wore as a baby. I am a daughter, the only daughter of two wonderful, generous human beings. I was longed for, hoped for and treasured.

Next, I see a dress worn when I was a preschooler. Some bits of jewelry still cling to it. For me, it reminds me of my first taste of friendship. My friend, who is still a friend today, and I used to dress in these dresses and wear our homemade jewelry and pose for pictures together. It was an innocent time, one that begs me to revisit it.

Ah, the next outfit is my prom dress, it symbolizes that carefree, happy time of life, high school. I was a friend, a daughter, a classmate…I laughed a lot back then, cried very little and looked to the future with unclouded eyes.

Business suits are next in the pile, my early years in the corporate world. Trying so hard to put to use everything I had learned, learning about the ugliness of life, the beginning realization that my innocent time of life was over.

My wedding dress and veil lay in the trunk as well. I became a wife, took on the responsibility of making a home and a life with another human being. Seeing this makes me think of that happy day and it reminds me that although I try every day to be a good wife, I know, without even much thought, that I fail miserably – every day.

There are a few maternity clothes, not many, for I never got to wear any of them for long, they are the symbols of babies gone to heaven too soon, of motherhood, the elusive ring I tried to grasp for so many years.

I see the color before I see the sweater lying underneath the pile and I can’t help but smile. That bright aqua, the color of the ocean, the color of the sky, the clothes I wore the morning my daughter was born, the day I became a mom, finally after such a long wait.

The outfits are important to me. They symbolize the different aspects, the different lives inside of me. Mom, Wife, Friend, Co-Worker, Daughter. I am all of these people. As the trunk is cleaned out, I see one other outfit. It is unfamiliar to me, but it is pretty, it seems the right color and the style is classic. It is one of those outfits that can be dressed up or dressed down, depending on the occasion. I want to wear it, take it home, hang it in my closet, and claim it as my own. This outfit is one that I want to know but it symbolizes the “me” that I don’t know yet. It is the “me” that is coming to the surface, underneath all the other lives I live, the real person is in here – just waiting to be let out, ironed and worn. It is an outfit I am excited and yearning to wear.