I’ve Been A Lot Of Different Versions Of Me

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I’ve Been A Lot Of Different Versions Of Me

 

And I’ll Be More In The Future

 

Real Chat: I have been a lot of different versions of Kat.

I’ve been the weird kid who got picked on in elementary school and the rebellious teenager who was perfectly happy to make sure she didn’t care what you thought. (She cared. A lot.)

I’ve been a highschool dropout and teenage mom.

A married, churchgoing mother of two. A divorced mom. A foster kid. A mom raising a child with special needs.

I’ve been a receptionist, a childcare provider, an educator, a life skills teacher, a volunteer, an advocate, a board president, a blogger, an amateur artist, and a wedding officiant.

I’ve also been so overwhelmed by life that I couldn’t get up off the floor for days.

I’ve survived cancer, domestic abuse, professional abuse, and more than a few times when waking up in the morning didn’t feel appealing at all.

And now I’m a purple-haired ADHD Coach, business owner, presenter, facilitator, advocate, homeowner, and still-slightly-feral human who somehow gets invited to stand in front of people and talk about things I care deeply about.

Life is weird.

 

 

 

Fake Versions? Definitely Not

It’s easy to look at some of my past selves and think, Who even was that person? Seriously.

But she was me.

The churchgoing mom was me. The rebellious teen was me.

The person who desperately wanted people to like her (no matter what she said) was me. So was the person who sometimes decided it was easier to make people dislike her.

The person clinging to the floor was me and the person who thought being a mom was probably the only thing she was ever going to be capable or good at was me.

None of those versions cancel out the others.

Becoming who I am now doesn’t even mean that I’ve finally discovered the one “real twue” version of myself.

We are allowed to change and evolve.

We change because we learn.

Because our circumstances change.

Because we discover things about ourselves that we didn’t know before.

Because we heal.

Because we find the language for the things we’ve experienced our whole lives.

Because what kept us safe or helped us belong in one part of our lives might not serve us in another.

And sometimes we change because we finally realize we are allowed to. 

 

 

Many Of Those Versions Were Just Trying To Survive

When I look back at old versions of me now, one thing is painfully obvious: A lot of my life was about survival.

 

• Some versions of me were trying to fit in.
• Some were trying to belong.
• Some were trying to make people happy.
• Some were rebelling against anyone who tried to tell me who I was supposed to be.
• Some were masking.
• Some were trying desperately to prove that I was capable of adulting.
• And some where just trying to make it through the damn day.

I was diagnosed with ADHD as a teenager, but I didn’t receive any meaningful education or treatment for it until I was well into my 40s.

So for decades, I had an explanation without having very much understanding. I didn’t know how much harder I was working to do things other people seemed to just….do.

I didn’t understand executive functioning. I didn’t understand why I could do incredibly difficult things and then completely fall apart over something that seemed ridiculously simple.

So I had explanations of my own, many handed down to me over the years.

Lazy. Unmotivated. Irresponsible. Not trying hard enough. Not living up to her potential.

I look back at some of those versions of myself very differently now.

There’s grief there.

There’s pride.

There’s a little embarassment. Mostly directed at some unfortunate choices involving 80s high hair and blue eye shadow.

But more than anything, there’s now compassion.

Because she wasn’t lazy.

She was doing the best she could with the information, resources, support, and capacity she had at the time.

 

 

 

Some Things Have Been There All Along

Shortly after my children moved out, I lost my job and a had some trauma.

When I came out of that, I wanted to know what I was going to DO with my life. So I asked friends and loved ones, and I thought about all my jobs and volunteers jobs and what I’ve enjoyed.

I learned that for all the ways I’ve changed, there are still peices of me that I can trace surprisingly far back.

 

• I’ve always wanted to help. (when asked what I wanted to be when I grew up, it was teacher, then asl interpreter)
• I’ve always cared deeply about fairness and justice. (Sometimes loudly. Okay, frequently loudly.)
• I’ve always wanted people to feel welcome. Seen. Validated. Less alone.
• Even during the periods when I wasn’t particularly good at offering those things to myself, I wanted to give them to other people.
• And apparently the quirky, sarcastic, slightly feral streak is, in fact, not a phase. At this point, I think we’re keeping her.

The way those pieces of me show up has changed. Today they show up in coaching, advocacy, facilitating, and the work I do around belonging and inclusion.

But they aren’t new.

Maybe that’s one of the things I’ve learned from having so many versions of myself: Changing doesn’t necessarily mean becoming someone else.

Sometimes it’s becoming more of who you already were.

I’m Still Becoming

I’m still becoming.

There was a time I thought being a mom was all I was capable of.

To be clear, being a mom wasn’t small, I wanted that to be my main job, being my kids mom.

It shaped me in enormous ways, and it will always be a part of who I am.

But my understanding of what I could be…who I could be….was small.

Today I’m both a homeowner and a business owner. A coach. A presenter. A facilitator. An advocate.

Someone people actualy seek out because they want me to teach, speak, lead, or help. I’ve been called an Expert and turned into a living monument.

If you told some previous versions of me that this was what was coming, I’m positive they would would not have believed you.

 

 

 

I’m also letting go of some things – or working to do so at least.

 

• People pleasing.
• Caring quite so much about what other people think I should be doing, feeling, or choosing.
• Masking in places where it’s safe for me not to.
• Old definitions of success that were never really mine to begin with.

I’m not done with any of those things.

Apparently personal growth does not come with a little progress bar letting you know you are at 87%.

Rude.

And I don’t think this version of me is the final one, either. I hope she isn’t.

There are things I still want to learn and experience. Things I will change my mind about.

Things I will outgrow. Parts of myself I haven’t even met yet.

But I don’t have; to reject who I’ve been in order to become whoever I’m becoming next. And neither do you.

You aren’t inconsistent because you’ve changed.

You aren’t fake because the person you are today believes, wants, or chooses things the person you were ten years ago didn’t.

Every version of you existed within the life you were living at the time. Some were surviving. Some were searching.

Some were protecting.  Some where just trying to find a place to belong. Some were beginning to figure out that belonging shouldn’t require disappearing.

You can carry the best pieces of those versions forward while leaving behind the things you no longer need.

I’ve been a lot of different versions. I’m pretty sure more are coming.

And these days, I’m actually kind of curious to meet them.