Not many women will tell you their goal is to be unbecoming.
It’s my goal.
With a hyphen of course! After all, punctuation is everything:
“Let’s eat, Grandma!” vs. “Let’s eat Grandma!”
As I get ready to turn 60, one of my greatest desires is to author an inspirational, aspirational book: a guide that teaches the story of Becoming and, more importantly, Un-Becoming.
It’s funny that the word “Unbecoming” has a negative connotation, meaning unflattering or unseemly.
The older I become, the more I love the word “Un-Becoming” yet my meaning is far different.
To Un-Become something creates the space for you to Become something else.
To me, that’s the beauty of Midlife.
The first 4 or 5 decades of our lives, we allow ourselves to Become something or someone. Notice I used the word “allow” rather than “choose.” I think it’s fair to say that many women in our generation became what other’s needed, or desired, us to be. Midlife brings with it an uncanny ability to objectively decide if we truly love what we’ve Become. Are we our Authentic Self, or are we simply the Stranger? If the latter, we can Un-Become that Stranger, peel away the layers that no longer fit our Aspirational Future Self – and step in to who we aspire and desire to be.
Un-Becoming allows us to Become.
A process of Conscious Un-Becoming allows for a Divine Space within to create your Future Self by peeling away layers while adding new, healthier, more empowered beliefs, attitudes, patterns and behaviors.
Conscious Un-Becoming means being aware of things that are holding you back: thoughts, beliefs, attitudes, patterns and behaviors, from a judgment free zone and making intentional decisions about what to leave behind to create space for new, more empowering ones to take their place.
It’s like peeling the layers of the onion or …
Pruning the branches of a rose bush. Every branch we remove creates space for new blooms to grow.
As humans, we bloom too. To bloom requires pruning and trimming old, dying, withering branches to sprout new, healthier blooms.
The decade between 50 and 60 has been a busy one for me. It’s as if the old, withering branches are staring me straight in the face. I can no longer look away. I’m forced to prune. Forced to bloom. Forced to Become.
Un-Becoming to Become my most Becoming Self.
Now, that’s a 60 to Aspire to be for me.
Are you ready to join me?
Good! Don’t be a Stranger!