Catharsis
“I think I’m the greatest person in the world.”
That’s a bold statement, one that I usually won’t bother to justify — but let me explain.
My life has been powered by an unshakable, almost supernatural confidence in my thoughts, abilities, actions, and decisions. I’ve always believed that every step I take is the right one, and every opinion I hold is beyond contestation because, quite simply, I think I’m smarter than everyone else.
For the most part, this mindset has served me well. I am intelligent and sharp enough to excel academically and professionally. With a curious mind and a relentless appetite for learning, I’ve gained a broad spectrum of knowledge, and I can hold a conversation on just about anything.
This “above-average persona” has propelled me through a life of remarkable achievements. And because I was thriving, I never stopped to realize how utterly insufferable I could be.
A self-righteous, sanctimonious, know-it-all.
Inflexible.
A smart-ass.
As a child, my overconfidence and strong opinions were celebrated. As an adult, they fast-tracked me into leadership roles and a vibrant social life, reinforcing the belief that my “my way or the highway” approach didn’t need to be adjusted. Why change something that works, right?
Then life happened.
The past few years have shaken me in ways I never anticipated. Marriage introduced me to the challenge of sharing physical and emotional space with one person, day in and day out. Traits others may have tolerated from a distance suddenly became unbearable in close quarters.
Having children unearthed reserves of tolerance, kindness, empathy, and love that I never knew I possessed. Traits I once thought were unnecessary suddenly became essential.
In five short years, I’ve faced a whirlwind of personal challenges — miscarriages, two successful pregnancies, near-death birth complications, multiple health issues, professional highs and lows, a demanding job and a global pandemic that saw me catching COVID three times.
These relentless experiences have bent, and are still bending, the rigid framework of my self-perception.
For the first time, I’m seeing the harm caused by my inflexibility. I’m learning that not every opinion needs to be voiced, not every battle needs to be fought, and that sometimes, it’s okay to let the activist in me rest.
As I approach 40 this year, I’m embracing this process of emotional release, of shedding the weight of my old self.
It’s not comfortable.
To be honest, it’s shocking to admit that I’m not always right. But this purification, this metamorphosis, is necessary.
I don’t yet know who I’ll become on the other side of this transformation, but I can’t wait to meet her.
And when I do, I’ll welcome her with open arms.
