In a recent episode of We Can Do Hard Things, Glennon Doyle did a 1:1 interview with writer Maggie Smith, where they spoke about betrayal, the truth, and reclaiming ourselves in a world that encourages the shaming of women who dare to tell their stories.
As I became enthralled with Maggie’s story, what struck deep down in my core was the fact that she kept writing throughout every curveball she faced in order to hold on to who she is.
Earlier this month, I was standing amongst dozens of my high school classmates from Lowville Academy as we gathered for our 45th class reunion.
I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since.
Because as I was moving my way amongst the groups of friends I made in the ‘70s, I was flooded with the feelings and memories of being high school Cindy…
A girl who was energized by the vastness of what was spread out in front of her, despite having no idea where she was going.
A girl who dressed how she wanted to dress, made friends with everyone, and listened to herself, first.
A girl who was supported and encouraged by her family, her teachers, and her friends to open doors, explore just for the fun of it, and create without regard for outcome.
Though everyone’s high school experience is different, mine was one of authenticity, of freedom, and of genuine self-expression.
In the years that followed, that girl grew, and she shifted.
I became the first person in my family to go to college, and while my parents fully supported me becoming an artist, I found myself on a path conforming to what might be more amenable to a patriarchal, capitalist society, one where a salary is necessary and there’s a family to support.
It was in those years where I turned to studying graphic design, working for a corporation, and then eventually starting my own business, that I found myself molding into someone out to “make a living”, desperately seeking to please others above gratifying my own creative self, and far too often listening to other peoples’ advice about what was “best” for me.
I am extremely grateful for and proud of the path I took; the home I’ve contributed to; the family I’ve raised.
And. During those years, while I didn’t necessarily lose who I was, I did allow her to sink into the background.
She came out in glimpses: In the eclectic way I’ve decorated my home; in the diverse relationships with friends and mentors I’ve been blessed to be surrounded by; in the re-prioritization of painting in recent years.
But that high school Cindy — the one truly unafraid to bare her whole self? She’s mostly been hidden.
Being back at my high school reunion reminded me that she’s not too far gone, though. And that if I hold on tight to who I am, I can bring her back to the forefront.
I can create for myself and acknowledge that art is a generous gift to the world.
I can choose rest despite living in a culture that is constantly encouraging hustle.
I can awaken the wildness that’s been tamed over the years.
Life is not without responsibility. And yet, we don’t have to abandon ourselves in an attempt to fit into a society that largely diminishes creative pursuits.
When I consider now what’s “best” for me, I know exactly who to turn to to answer: High school Cindy.
When I hear her voice, I know it’s the truth. And I know that she is the person I will continue to hold on to as I seek to bring more light into the world.