On Becoming Who You're Meant to Be
(FROM A LATE BLOOMER)
I’ve arrived late to much of life…starting with a 28-hour delivery. (Whew--thanks, Mom!)
I didn’t have my first crush until high school (the much older, smart, athletic, nice Terry Truebenbach).
I mastered the art of house parties in my late twenties after a fairly tame college experience.
I’ve still never been married, nor had kids.
And I’m a budding writer while writer friends from my college days have Amazon bestsellers (so freakin’ cool!).
The issue of my “tardiness” came to the forefront when I recently read about Jung and individuation. (Okay, okay...it may have also come up a time or two with friends when I triple-booked myself. "Three-event Meghan" as they liked to call me. In a pandemic, those days are gone. Le sigh.)
If you're unfamiliar with Jungian psychology, individuation is a lifetime journey toward becoming who we truly are. According to Jung, each of us is born with a set of unique talents and abilities, a calling or vocation, that form the core of our being. However, we assume whatever persona we need to survive, given our context. We develop the traits that get rewarded (by our parents, in school, by our friends, at work) and conceal those not positively reinforced. These repressed traits become our shadow.
Throughout our life, our unconscious will give us hints of what we need to do to reveal our gifts, integrate our shadow, and become who we’re truly meant to be. These hints can arrive via dreams, conflicts or tensions, synchronicities, meditation, or even through health challenges, among other paths.
Pssst: those doldrums you're experiencing? They might be a sign that your job is draining you and you're not honoring your true self. (Or, they might be the fact that you're trying to raise kids/hold down a job/care for your parents during a pandemic. Either way, be gentle with yourself.)
Though some people follow their calling at an early age, many Jungian psychologists agree that it’s in the second half of life when individuation truly kicks in. In the first half, you’re climbing a mountain, building a career, maybe a family. These activities feed your soul but also your presence in the world. In the second half, you come to grips with your individual destiny, and you care less about prestige and image (i.e., "the show ends"...and not always with a standing ovation). You get to focus on what makes you come alive and on your generativity in the world. Perhaps you return to some activity you loved to do as a child, you double down on work you love, or you renegotiate your relationships.
Given my reputation as a late bloomer, I feel a certain “surprise and delight” in being ahead of the curve when it comes to rethinking and repurposing midlife (my own and those of my clients). 42 is considered early midlife. Though I’ve had my share of “hard knocks," I acknowledge that I’m still on my journey to Jung’s mountain top, which is necessary for my individuation process.
But there’s such satisfaction in letting our voices burst free as we climb this mountain, isn't there? Especially because accepting the struggles we face in our outer and inner lives is a lifelong practice--and, according to the science, a very powerful practice.
You may be sensing this liberation for yourself, too. If so, I'm excited to have you as part of this community. And I want to know: What have you repressed in your shadow? What's in your shadow that you now wish to integrate? Share below!
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