Just Guyton

This morning, somewhere in the middle of my five-mile walk, I found myself thinking about a question:

Who am I now that I get to decide?

Growing up, I didn’t always have the freedom to figure that out.

There were a lot of ideas about who I was supposed to be, how I was supposed to feel, what I should like, and what version of me was acceptable.

But somewhere along the way, I stopped believing that I had to choose just one version of myself.

And these days?

I’m having a pretty damn good time meeting all of them. 😂

I’ve wanted to be a writer since I was 10 years old. I started writing poetry when I was 12, and I still have every poem I’ve ever written.

That girl was a writer long before anybody called her one.

She was just waiting for enough room to take up some space.

I’m also almost 50 years old with an entire wall dedicated to Care Bears. 😂 My favorite has always been Funshine Bear, and sitting front and center on that wall is a yellow Care Bear suitcase just like the one my grandmother gave me when I was little.

The original disappeared somewhere along the way.

Years later, my husband, Chris, listened to that story, went searching, found the exact same suitcase in beautiful condition, and gave a little piece of my childhood back to me.

He calls things like that “healing my childhood trauma.”

And apparently he has taken the assignment very seriously because the Care Bears have multiplied. 😂

That’s one of the things I love about being known by someone instead of being defined by someone.

Chris doesn’t tell me who I am.

He pays attention while I show him.

And who I am doesn’t always fit neatly into one little box.

My music alone should probably come with a warning label.

I love Ice Cube and 50 Cent.

I love Phish and Fiona Apple.

I love Dolly Parton and Toby Keith.

Make that make sense.

Actually, don’t.

It doesn’t have to.

I happily spend time building entire villages in LEGO Fortnite, and just in case my digital villages weren’t enough, there’s an eight-foot table in our spare bedroom containing an actual LEGO village.

Don’t judge me. 😂

I’m a wife.

I’m a mother.

I’m a grandmother.

I’m a writer.

I’m a poet.

I’m a gamer.

I’m a collector.

And I’m still the little girl who gets excited about a Care Bear.

For a long time, I think I misunderstood what growing up was supposed to mean.

I thought becoming the next version of yourself meant leaving the previous ones behind.

I don’t believe that anymore.

I don’t have to outgrow the things that bring me joy just because I’ve accumulated birthdays.

I don’t have to make all of my interests match.

I don’t have to become easier for somebody else to categorize.

And I certainly don’t need somebody else to tell me who I am.

I think I’m all the versions of myself that are freely allowed to be.

I’m Care Bears and Ice Cube.

Poetry and pixels.

Five-mile mornings and thoughts that refuse to sit still.

Dolly Parton and 50 Cent.

Fiona Apple and Toby Keith.

Phish and a village made of bricks.

I’m a little bit sunshine, a little bit gangsta, a little bit country, and apparently a whole lot of LEGO. 😂

I’m the girl who wanted to write, the woman who finally did, and every version of me that lived between the two.

So who am I now that I get to decide?

All of her.