How Others See You

You might be surprised

An old photo of Rob and three of our five children with me at Lowlands Beach,

Here is a summary of my life, given by someone to a mutual overseas acquaintance I haven’t seen for fifty years, who’d asked what had happened to me:

“Oh, Marlane? Well, she married a guy and had lots of kids.”

Initially I was shocked when this conversation was reported to me. Surely there has been more to me than that?

What about my two careers? My wild cottage garden? What about the operation that removed my galling gall bladder? What about learning to drive a hill trolley in my late forties? The world trips? Going back to school in my late fifties? Two books traditionally published with my name splashed on the cover? The bold, public anti-ageing protest which involved me withstanding verbal onslaughts from my hairdresser in order to slowly but surely allow my hair to turn grey? Playing bass guitar in a dance band? Mastering the tricky art of eating a vanilla slice without covering other café customers in sticky custardy goo?

Unfortunately, none of these outstanding achievements sprung to the mind of the person who was questioned. I had merely morphed from a green-eyed, freckle-faced student in the USA to a wife and mother in Australia.

When I heard how he’d summed me up, my sense of my own self-importance was seriously damaged. I went around for days with thoughts jumping from one accomplishment to the other. I even started a list and carried it around in my pocket so I could drag it out from time to time to re-enforce the idea that my life had been an exciting series of incredible, newsworthy events.

I calmed down eventually.

We are so intimate with our lives – our own inner and outer complexity – that we’re surprised when we hear it summed up in a rudimentary way.

But rudimentary is okay.

What was said is true. I did marry a (wonderful) guy and had lots (five) of (incredible) kids. To the person answering the question about me, those two things were the important bits.

It’s natural that others view us simplistically, almost stereotypically. That’s all they’ve got time for because they’re busy getting on with their own (amazing) lives.

The main thing is to have a wonderful life.

Appreciate and learn from our own inner and outer complexity.

And don’t worry about how other people see us.

We know how far we’ve fallen and how high we’ve climbed.

(I know you’re dying to find out how to safely eat a vanilla slice. The trick is to turn the slice on its side and cut it into narrow strips with a sharp serrated knife before inserting the delectable pieces into your mouth. A dear friend called Jan passed on this invaluable information to me, for which I am eternally grateful.)

With love, Marlane