The myth of fresh-starts

At the beginning of this year, it became clear that I needed a fresh start. It brought me into a season of singleness, into a new job, into a new country. It brought me countless new friendships and adventures and the sort of self-discoveries and awareness about which people dream. This fresh start for which I fought so valiantly and steadfastly brought me more than I ever imagined, but beyond those things, it brought me a nugget of truth that I wasn't sure I wanted. There's no such thing as a fresh start.

Sure, we can move to a new country and take a new job and completely rebuild our community, but the fact remains that all those things we want a fresh start from will still be with us. Those things shape us, they change us radically, and we can't escape them. Our pasts are part of us, even as we move beyond them, and in carrying the weight of all the places we've been and people we've met, it's almost laughable to believe we'll somehow be able to throw them off and have a fresh start.

I came here needing a change, needing something more. But I also came trying to outrun something that had become part of me. Not just something that had happened, but something that had built a new part of me. Something that had become part of my story and my journey and any destination I find. So why did I think I'd be able to get rid of it?

This weekend, I went to see Romeo and Juliet at the Sydney Opera House with a friend of mine. The show was spellbinding and the company quite nice, and we spent the afternoon talking about life - where we've been and where we're going. Somewhere in the middle of all of it, he said something to me, and the gist of it was that this past part of me that I try to avoid has had an impact on how some people see me. And it wrecked my heart in the best kind of way. The I-really-need-to-deal-with-this kind of way, mixed with who-cares-what-anyone-else-says kind of way and I saw in myself a strength I didn't know I had. A strength to say my fresh start isn't just around the corner. It just isn't, and the sooner I stop chasing it, the sooner I'll be able to revel in the glory of where I am and how I got here. The sooner I stop chasing it, the sooner I'll be able to claim every nitty gritty part of my baggage and stop wondering if it will change things. Of course it will change things. But that's absolutely okay.

So here's to admitting that fresh starts are usually nowhere to be found, and maybe it's better that way. Maybe instead of trying to release the hurts and struggles of our who-we-weres, we should cling to them a little more tightly, allowing them to create in us glorious, tender hearts that are strong enough to come out of the storm better than we were before.

Who we were doesn't have to define who we are or who we will be. But that doesn't mean it's a bad thing for who we were to have a little say in the matter.