One of the most jarring things I’ve experienced while empty nesting is self-discovery. Being my big age, the expectation is I should know by now. Know where I want to live, what I want to do, and have goals I’m working towards to get there. This knowing comes from having a clear understanding of what you’re trying to accomplish with your life. When I was younger, I wanted to be married and have a family. Programming had me believe that’s my purpose. As a Christian, my purpose was to lead people to the Lord. As the eldest child, my purpose was to obey and instruct my siblings to follow suit. Once I had my family, my purpose was to raise my children. Pretty straight forward pursuits. My purpose was to take care of my community. But who was I and why wasn’t I included in the care? For one, I wasn’t happy. I wasn’t happy even in my fantasies.

When I thought about happiness, it always included someone else. They’re so happy! They love it. The co-dependency of it all. Not once did I consider my happiness as the priority. I would include myself in the happiness but if the other party wasn’t satisfied, I’d sacrifice it. My happiness didn’t have to live out loud. I can be happy later by myself. When I explained to a therapist how I hold the feelings inside around my then boyfriend only to express them when I’m alone, they informed me that sounds like masking. Processing my emotions felt like a task. I could just turn it all off and address it when I felt safe to do so. I was constantly showing up in every relationship as a caricature of myself. Whatever someone else wanted me to show up as, I would become.

Once I learned what masking was I stopped. I stopped being performative and decided now was the time to find my own voice. It freaked everyone in my circle out. My son called it my midlife crisis. My purpose was about everyone else or so I thought. This was a complete 180 from who I’ve been. Everyone in my world was introduced to an authentic version of myself which meant they mourned the me they knew. Some of them physically removed themselves from my life. My initial reaction was to convince them of my worthiness but once I began to value my own authenticity, I quit. My purpose isn’t others happiness. My value isn’t tied to another human being. Life equates to more than the sum of good and evil.

My brother told me this purpose shit is not real. We grew up believing our purpose is in service and that is your only inherit value. He told me that religion and our family dynamic is how I perceived purpose as the compass of my life. Learning this made me feel like Dorothy in the wizard of Oz. My job was never to find a person to fix or guide or assist with their life. I’ve always had the power to decide what I wanted to do and change my situation. I’m not listless or flighty just undecided. Fuck purpose for now, it’s just time to make some definitive decisions.