Jury of My Past Selves

On personal evolution, harsh self-judgment, and making my younger selves proud.

I wanna live for many years

Make a promise to the plenty

Show up for the versions of myself that I have yet to meet

Like how are you, it’s me¹

When I look in the mirror, I occasionally stop to think about how little my appearance has changed over the last decade or so, even though so much else has.

Most days, I chalk it up to the fact that I’m still sporting my signature box braids. If you look closely enough, you’ll notice that they’re thinner and shorter than the ones that I wore when I was younger. In daily life, people don’t look that closely at me, (or anybody) though.

Two photos taken years apart, in which I am wearing pink dresses and standing in front of brick walls. Left, senior formal. Right, a restaurant in LA last summer.

After a customary cursory glance, people often tell me how young I look, how great my skin is, that they love my hair, and/or that they can really see one or both of my parents in me.

I look more like my mom when my hair is blown out. My skin tone more closely resembles my father’s. And my skin is pretty great. And I’m still quite young.

But I’m not 16, or 18, or 22, or even 26 anymore. I’m certainly not 13 (even though I could probably still play a preteen in a musical.) I am not any of these past selves, though they all brew within me.

I sometimes picture all of my past selves standing in a line, judging me. People always reference how proud your past selves would be if they could see you now, and see how far you've come.

But a lot of the time, I really don’t feel like I deserve their pride, awe, or amazement. I haven’t gone as far as they thought we would. I’ve gone in all sorts of zig zag directions collecting accomplishments and accolades that aren’t enough for them. They only care about what I lack.

They snicker when people imply that I have everything. That I should be happy. That I’m so lucky. So blessed.

I picture the past selves whispering, “If only you knew what she lacked. The very basic things she lacks.”

My past selves are damning, discerning, and disappointed in me.

I can’t quite picture my future selves. It’s like they’re standing on the other side of an impenetrable fog that I can’t break through — so close yet so far. “If I could only reach them, I could be them”, I think to myself. The past selves would have true reason to be proud.

I think the future selves are kinder. I can’t hear what they’re saying, or see what they look like, but I can sense their warmth and grace.

Perhaps to reach my future selves, I have to let go of my grip on the present. Maybe I’m not completely ready to release some things; I know I can’t take everything I think I need to the next stage of my life. I’m lucky to know that some people are along for the journey — that those friends will attend all the funerals of who I used to be*, and support every one of my evolutions. But you can’t keep every corner of your life neat and tidy when you evolve. Things disappear, are transformed, lost, and unraveled. You’re made anew.

*A reference to a quote from one of my favorite poems below.

To love someone long-term is to attend a thousand funerals of who they used to be.

The people they’re too exhausted to be any longer.
The people they don’t recognize inside themselves anymore.
The people they grew out of, the people they never ended up growing into.
We so badly want the people we love to get their spark back when it burns out;
to become speedily found when they are lost.
But it is not our job to hold anyone accountable to the people they used to be.
It is our job to travel with them between each version and to honor what emerges along the way.
Sometimes it will be an even more luminescent flame.
Sometimes it will be a flicker that disappears and temporarily floods the room with a perfect and necessary darkness.

-Heidi Priebe

I’m ready to be new.

I’m ready to run through the fog and meet my future selves.

But this is just a metaphor. The place I want to run is not physical, it’s spiritual and emotional.

It’s the place that holds all of the freedom and peace that I crave. When I picture it, it’s usually a beach or a woodland forest. (Even though I’m a city child - the imagination wants what it wants, right?)

But can I get there?

Can I break through my limiting beliefs to the future I deserve?

Or will I stay stuck. And attend no funerals of who I used to be.

And let my past selves down. And let all my selves down. And watch my future selves slip away before I even get to know them, be them, and learn from them.

The fog is a metaphor. Blocking me from my future selves.

But it’s also foggy in my mind, as I write all of this.

Maybe one of these days, the future selves will send me a sign. Unless they can’t look back without risking it all, and damning me to hell like Orpheus.*

I guess that makes my current self Eurydice. And so I guess I’ll just keep walking. Hoping against all hope that my story ends differently than theirs did. That the future selves trust me to meet them on the other side.

For those who might be unfamiliar with the tragic Ancient Greek tale of Orpheus and Eurydice, here’s a quick synopsis -

Orpheus fell in love with Eurydice a woman of unique beauty; they got married and lived happily for many years. Hymen was called to bless the marriage and he predicted that their perfection was not meant to last for years.

At some time, soon after his omen, Eurydice was wandering in the forest with the Nymphs, when Aristaeus, a shepherd saw her and was beguiled by her beauty. He started chasing her and making advances on her. Eurydice got scared and tried to escape, but she was bitten by a snake and died.

Orpheus sang his grief with his lyre and managed to move everything living or not on the world; both humans and Gods were deeply touched by his sorrow and grief.

Apollo then advised his son to descend to the Hades and see his wife. Any other mortal would have died, but Orpheus protected by the Gods, went to the Hades.

Orpheus started playing for them and even the cold heart of Hades started melting, due to the melodies coming from Orpheus’ lyre. Hades told Orpheus that he could take Eurydice with him but under one condition; Eurydice would follow him while walking out to the light from the caves of the Underworld, but he should not look at her before coming out to the light because he would lose her forever. If Orpheus was patient enough he would have Eurydice as a normal woman again on his side.

Orpheus was delighted; he thanked the Gods and left to ascend to the world. He was trying to hear Eurydice’s steps, but he could not hear anything and he started believing that the Gods had fooled him. Of course Eurydice was behind him, but as a shadow, waiting to come to light to become a full woman again. Only a few feet away from the exit, Orpheus lost his faith and turned to see; if was Eurydice behind him, but her shadow was whisked back among the dead. Eurydice was gone forever.²

How often do you think about your past selves? Any wisdom you think your future selves would have for you, if they could turn around and reach you? Or if you could jump forward and pay them a quick visit, like Dani does in Rebecca Serle’s novel In Five Years ?

I can only imagine what my future selves might whisper though the fog. So for today, I’ll just picture them singing this to me -

It all comes, it all comes when it wants to
Not when you want it to
At the strangest times

The kingdom is yours
The seas, the shores
It's like you've only just arrived

Unknown is king
Your eyes will bring
All you need to survive

1. For Many Years, Meggo

2. www.greekmyths-greekmythology.com/orpheus-and-eurydice/