I’m going through an interesting season of my life where some things that were previously very important to me are becoming less important to me, and I have embarked on some new challenges that I had previously been afraid to explore.
It has got me thinking about doors, both in a physical and metaphorical sense.
I have always struggled with operating some mechanical things, to the point that I have referred to locks and keys as my nemesis. I easily forget how seemingly simple things work, like which way up to hold the key, what direction to turn it, and how much pressure to apply. So opening a door is, for me, a physically and mentally demanding task.
Thank goodness for swipe cards and keypads.
Then there’s the metaphor of doors as opportunities. My childhood was filled with goodbyes. I grew up moving often and became used to leaving people, places and things. Which led me to a fear of holding onto something too tightly, or of reaching too far for something, and of letting things go.
A mix of extreme caution and stubbornness.
I’m laughing as I write this, as earlier today I said to someone that our brains are very skilled in protecting us from things, to the point that it makes things harder in the long run.
Two sides of the same key: if I don’t try, I won’t feel the pain of failure; if I don’t let myself say goodbye, I won’t feel the pain of loss.
A coping mechanism I know well, and have been spending the last couple of decades training myself out of. Growing my understanding of what I can’t control, because pain, grief and loss will hit even when we try to hide from it.
This year I experienced a loss I wasn’t really prepared for: the unexpected death of my darling dog, who I treated as my son. I was brave and chose to love him with my full being, which meant his loss hit me hard. But it taught me something too. He was my brave adventurer, curious and interested in the world. When he was afraid, he turned to me to protect him. An incredible gift that is helping me be brave. Not just in taking on new opportunities, but also in letting go of ‘people pleasing’ to hold onto people.
I started writing this reflection because I was thinking about how, over probably the last year or so, my focus has drifted away from a hobby I used to be in love with: dressing in vintage-inspired pinup fashion and competing in pageants. A delightful world where I created an alter ego, walked stages in pretty dresses and the occasional swimsuit. A world that gave me a creative outlet and helped me to love my physical body. I even won some titles, something my childhood and teenage self never thought possible.
And yet this world has less influence in this current season of life. I feel I achieved my goals and learnt all the lessons I needed to gain. I have less interest in competing or in attending events that drain my energy. A statement that feels difficult to say because it is a goodbye to a part of my identity and seems insensitive to those who still live and breathe that world.
So I’m struggling with closing the door because I think I have confused closing doors with locking doors.
When I was a child, moving felt like a complete end. I had no control and believed I could never go back. However, adult me can travel to places and through pain. I walk through doors constantly. Some I close, some I lock, and some I can unlock quite easily with a swipe card or keypad.
And pretty dresses still make me happy. Dopamine dressing is a thing.
