Flying Solo

For the longest time, I’ve stated that Mondays are my favourite day of the week. Yes, I know. Weird. But, hear me out.

Monday is that fresh start. That day to begin. Think of any schooling experience, weight loss program, diet or exercise based, and typically, we start that shit on a Monday. It’s why most people hate Mondays, but the very reason I relish them. In this vein, I have contended that on Monday, nothing has yet gone wrong. Nothing has tipped the scale positively or negatively; expect that particular crap on a Wednesday. Monday is the blank slate beginning that allows us to start anew.

Well, I formally recant this. Two Mondays in a row, I’ve been blindsided. Yeah, yeah, sounds dramatic. But in my world, that blindsiding waits politely until mid-week after I’ve had a couple days of checking off to-do lists and reorganizing life goals. I don’t mean that anything terribly traumatic has happened, just terribly unexpected. Two isolated tailspin-inducing events that fell on my beloved Monday. How could anything have that impact, you ask? Each event affected my definition of who I am through a lens outside myself. Kind of like seeing my reflection in a mirror I didn’t buy, but have to see everyday, and one day the mirror is warped but I don’t own it so I can’t replace it. Get it?

While I thankfully have a pretty strong sense of self (something that has made the past couple of weeks easier, I believe), it got me thinking. And I realized, maybe a bit late to the game, the stronger the sense of self, the better able we are to weather a shift in our personal perceptions-even if those perceptions are defined outside of ourselves.

(Hang in there, I have a point, I swear.)

While I’d like to say that I don’t give two hoots about what other people think of me, the honest answer is that like anyone, I have a peer and colleague group that help me understand who I am from other people’s view. Some people help me understand who I am as a friend, others help me define my professionalism. All this mixes with my sense of me. When, or if, I rely heavily on one of those definitions, and that definition dissolves or disappears…get the picture? A stronger sense of who we are, without the extras, well, that’s how we move forward and through the turbulence of everyday life.

I have had two terribly turbulent Mondays in a row where I got a pop quiz in how I defined me.  Two points at which I was grateful for knowing who I am and what I’m made of. And know what, I’m made of stronger stuff because while the experiences were bumpy enough for me to strongly reconsider my favorite day of the week choice, they were not enough to knock me out of the sky.

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