Googling Yourself

Recently, I was looking at one of the vintage group photos I have framed in my room. It appears to be from a women's college, circa 1920. I was studying the faces ... thinking that all of those women are gone now. Who were they? What were they like? Does anyone remember them? How would I want to be remembered?

It's funny how our perception of ourselves is often nothing like the perception the world has of us. Today, all you have to do is Google your name and you can find out how the world defines you. Ten years ago when I searched my name, this simple act turned up a list of freelance articles I'd written. (Yes, I would consider writing an integral part of my personal reflection.) A year ago, my search turned up a list of comments I'd left on industry blogs, kudos to colleagues, etc. (At least I was complimentary to others ... if not invisible as an individual. Hmmm.) Today, my search turned up a list of (mostly) empty profiles on social media sites that I'd set up months ago (mostly because people told me I needed to be on those sites). Hmmmm, again.

One could string a little story together about me from this 10-year-cyber journey that might go like this .... She was a writer; then she took a back seat and watched others (complimenting their efforts); then she went through the motions of being part of several communities--but didn't seem very invested. Uggghh. Seems pretty much accurate. Certainly doesn't paint a complimentary picture of me.

So who am I? I've been pondering that a lot lately. From everything I've read and heard, we're supposed to be "better than ever" at this point in life ... confident, non-compromising, determined. Did I miss the boat? Compromising seems to have become my middle name. Right in front of my hyphenated last name ... Politically-correct. Most days, I'm so overwhelmed by the gale force winds in my life that bellow non-stop about their own perfection (counter-balanced by my conscience echoing that if that is perfection, I'm in deep, deep do-do) ... that I can't decipher who God made me to be. It's hard to see the forest through the trees.

It's only in the rare quiet moments in my life that I can step apart from the noise and immerse myself in the things I love to do. Photography. Design. Reading. Sewing. Cooking. Writing. Being outside. Spending time with my fav peeps (and furry creatures). And then I'm okay with me. I don't have to try to transform myself into someone I'm not. Nor try to shape-shift my profile to fit into some preformed social media shell. Nor pretend I give a crap about any sports team's score (which I don't). Nor try to one-up anyone on the latest details of some story off the hottest newswire, in some twisted competition to prove who is "smarter."

So maybe the goal is to seek more quiet time and follow Erma Bombeck's lead ... "When I stand before God at the end of my life, I would hope that I would not have a single bit of talent left, and could say, 'I used everything you gave me.' "