Do we grow into ourselves?
When we were young, Mum would tell us that it didn’t really matter if our new winter coat was too large as we would soon “grow into it”.
So , do we grow into ourselves?
In my teens I was worried about fitting in and being part of the crowd, my 20s were about finding my way in the world, starting work, getting married and having babies, 30s about bring up those children and playing plate spinning with my job, and then my 40s watching them grow up, get jobs/degrees/qualifications and make lives of their own in their own homes with the people they love.
So, now, into my 50s, have i grown into myself?
Have all the experiences made me me?
Am I the completed version of the teenager who didn’t appreciate maybe how great she really was?
Do I maybe have the best, (or worst) characteristics of my, now dead, parents?
Is this woman a person who I would want to be friends with?
Have I grown into the woman I was born to be?