has anyone ever experience their inner critic gaining strength as they get older? i'm not sure what has happened to me (negative experiences?) but it seems harder to write freely.
perhaps its just that i'm losing my youthful "know it all" confidence. and i believe more and more strongly that, well, you can't be too sure about things without later finding out you're actually dead wrong.
many traits i considered strengths have turned out to be unhealthy compulsions. it's been an eye-opener to find that my husband loves me not for being extremely efficient and hardworking, but because i'm me (even just sitting still, or sleeping in). i used to think i was really great at psychoanalyzing people, but now it seems that i'm just really critical. so i'm trying to learn to just appreciate people despite their strange or irritating behaviors.
i think if i wrote a book on what i believe right now, i'd be horribly embarrased in about a year.
things are changing so fast. i'm not really a reliable opinion to rely on. is there something reliable beyond me?
i know i'm supposed to say "God". yes, he is always there. but my beliefs about who he is, what he wants...those definitely can be dead wrong.
truth, love and beauty.
my quest for truth requires me to again and again open myself to new revelations. m. scott peck calls it revising your road map. every new experience is an opportunity to allow myself to learn, to correct course, or to erase and re-draw lines on the map.
love turns out to be something different than i thought it was. all those times i thought i was helping people were a disaster. turns out i was just supposed to enjoy them! martin buber says, look at your person as a thou, not as an it; as a living, feeling person in this moment, not the concept you have of them. of course they're not perfect, but that doesn't really matter.
beauty too isn't easy to pin down. what i find beautiful changes with time. styles change. i used to love the rustic furniture look but lately i see that some of it is fake rustic. and so i'd prefer to have a quality genuine piece of furniture. i used to want all my dishes to match in their antique battered-ness. but why not have some new things and some old ones and some in between? isn't that more like life?
all those cherished radical ideas...they're getting rubbed off like embarassing rough edges.
maybe i'm getting worn and a little rustic myself. i guess that's a part of aging i can appreciate.