When Did I Stop Being Myself?
20 Steps of Growth Mixed with Forgetting
Introduction
I have expressed, in the form of a poem, the strange mysteries of life,
and the discomfort and stress we often feel without fully understanding them.
If these words can be of use to someone, even in a small way,
I would be truly grateful.
Age 1
With newborn senses, there was only joy in touching the world.
Adults? Faded gray, always looking at their phones.
Age 2
I could cry when I wanted to cry, laugh when I wanted to laugh.
As an adult, the number of deep breaths has increased.
Age 3
The world was filled with "why?" Everything was a mystery, everything an adventure.
Adults are tired or hurt by asking "why?"
Age 4
I could jump into big puddles without fear.
Adults fear falling or getting dirty.
Age 5
Only today mattered. Talk of next year or ten years ahead had no reality.
Adults have literally lost reality to yesterday's regrets and tomorrow's anxieties.
Age 6
Play and learning were one.
Adults exclude the joy of learning, seeking only efficiency.
Age 7
Nature was my friend. I touched the soil, talked with the wind, was one with the trees.
Now as an adult, I look at nature photos on social media.
Age 8
I learned how to stand up as many times as I fell.
Adults feel anxious they might not be able to get up even though they haven't fallen.
Age 9
Heart, words, colors. Even if all were different, friends were friends.
As an adult, I began socializing with people who share common ground, and naturally "differences" became distant.
Age 10
Astronaut, dinosaur expert—all were possible futures.
Adults calculate qualifications and budgets before dreaming.
Age 11
Learning was fun just because I wanted to know.
Adults categorize their desire to know by the measure of "is it useful?"
Age 12
Friends were enough if hearts could connect.
Adults choose people by titles and benefits.
Age 13
I could ask "teach me" when I didn't understand.
Adults misunderstand not knowing as weakness and hide it.
Age 14
No one said it was wrong to paint the sun any color.
Adults search for the "correct answer" even in hobbies.
Age 15
A day was until I was tired and slept at sunset.
Adults are chased by minute-by-minute schedules, finding it hard to make time to think.
Age 16
Like was like, dislike was dislike. No reasons needed.
Adults seek meaning in everything, not listening to their heart's voice.
Age 17
"I want this" was simple, with no hesitation even in emotionally turbulent times.
Adults have too many choices and give up choosing.
Age 18
Days when "somehow" was perfectly fine.
Adults bind their intuition with data and evidence.
Age 19
On the beach at summer's end, the sand castle we built together belonged to no one and everyone.
Adults forget everyone in order to monopolize results.
Age 20
"I'm sorry" was a magic phrase that sorted out miscommunication.
Adults sometimes can't apologize due to responsibility or saving face.
Looking back like this, it emerges that we may have fitted many things into molds to become "adults."
We may have carelessly let go of what is most precious.
Let's ask our childhood selves now:
"What have I forgotten?"
The answer is taught to us by the children and animals living in the present.
Editor's Note
I’ve been putting effort into the Japanese-language note.com, and quite some time has passed. In Japan, spring is almost ending, and the season is changing to the rainy season (tsuyu) before summer.
After consulting with Academia.edu's Academia Customer Support about whether I could contribute as an unaffiliated pseudonym, I was allowed to participate.
I understand it's problematic for me, without a master's or doctoral degree or institutional affiliation, to be treated "equally" with the professional credibility of those who have been refined in academia.
Rather than being muted, I probably won't even appear in search results as unaffiliated.
Still, there might be times when civilian perspectives could be useful, such as in ethics or the dignity of the elderly.
https://independent.academia.edu/TrgrKarasuToragara
I made this challenge.
Challenges are difficult. That's precisely why it's joyful when they connect.
About the Author
Trgr Lab — Website | Amazon | Academia.edu | note (JP) | Instagram | Medium
Photo by Frans van Heerden:
https://www.pexels.com/photo/rainbow-above-the-green-grass-lawn-1438833/