Taking Care of My 17 Year Old Self

I had sorta a strange weekend of taking care of my 17 year old self.  Wait, who? 

It all started with a dream that I had about one of my amazing oboe teachers.  She was/is such a female role model for me; a determined, smart and talented woman in the still very heavily male world of classical music (reminds me a lot of medicalized birth).

I have such fond memories of spending lesson time with her in her gorgeous New York City apartment overlooking Central Park.  She’d let me stay for hours sometimes, especially if it was rainy, because that meant that her job would be delayed (the Metropolitan Opera Orchestra offered summer concerts back then in the park). 

She was stern and also funny; truly, one of the best musicians and teachers in the world, plus a kind woman; I will always hold those years close to my heart.

Looking forward to college, I was living this dream life as a musician already, and it made sense that I would continue on with this teacher at this Juilliard School (I was already attending the pre-college there) and my life was MAPPED OUT.

I wanted nothing else, at that time, but to follow in her footsteps.

Long story short, I still had to audition for the School and when that fateful day came, I was sicker than a dog.  Auditions don’t care about that, so I went, and played, and barely remember anything except how awful I felt.

I was not accepted into the Juilliard School.  My heart was broken.  Where would my life go, my 17 year old self wondered?

Obviously, it all turned out OK.  I tell my kids this story, because if I had not gotten sick that day….I never would have met Jason, and our family as we know it would not exist!

While that is all true, I realized that my teenage self really never FELT and ABSORBED that impact of that shock.   It didn’t matter to me THEN that it “would all work out”.   In fact, that was of zero comfort.  

These memories got brought up again this weekend and I was able to tend to my younger self, and hear and see her pain.  Even though I am over it by many years and don’t wish for anything to be different, my body remembered.

It’s such a great example of how life can take a turn and JUST LIKE THAT our future is indelibly altered.

It’s not a matter of good or bad….it just IS.

My 17 year old self really needed to be held, 30 years later.  It was nice to see her, and allow myself to remember how hard that felt.

Sometimes the Universe just needs to swoop in and direct us in ways we never would have chosen.  

And it can feel, with these big events in life, like we have jumped timelines or realities.  

I’ve realized that the mind can make better sense of what’s happened than the body.  Tending to the feelings as they arise (even decades later) can help healing and is just a part of being a functional human.

Thanks for listening and holding space for my reflections.

Oxoxo