Distractions are welcome these days, so early this morning I threw on some clothes and prepared to give a presentation about social media to a group of real estate agents. There was no reason to cancel, even if a lot has happened in the month since I agreed to give the presentation. I needed to be there. For me.
As I stood in front of the mirror, I fussed with my hair. I'm generally a very no-fuss kind of person, but that's mostly because I long ago learned how to just go with the flow. My hair knows what it wants to do, so I let it do it. But this morning nothing seemed to work.
I primped.
I combed.
I sprayed.
I flat-ironed.
I primped some more.
Over and over and over, I ran through the cycle trying to figure out WHY my hair looked wrong. Why was it not laying right? Why was it so uncooperative?
I sighed as I figured it out. I had parted it on the wrong side. I have parted my hair in exactly the same place every day for the past fifteen years (at least), but this morning? This morning I had it all backwards.
It was the second time in just a few days that I've done that exact thing.
It doesn't take a degree in psychology to figure out that I've lost who I am. There's no way to be the person I was back in November before everything started to fall apart. That person is gone. I'll never again be that person who fights to create a culture of learning at a construction company as she drives around in a Nissan Rogue, complaining about a noisy bulldog and remaining hopelessly optimistic about . . . well . . . everything. But most certainly hopelessly optimistic about that.
She's gone. That version of me is gone.
I haven't found the new me yet, but I'm looking. Bear with me as I try to find her.