Stop Waiting For Him

There’s a man some of us spend far too long waiting for: the man we used to be.

The one who recovered faster, moved easier and had fewer scars. The one who could get away with things the body sends an invoice for now.

We remember him well. Sometimes too well.

Because without realizing it, we start using that younger version of ourselves as the standard against which everything today is measured. And that's a miserable way to live.

I know because I've done it.

After my motorcycle crash, there were things my body simply couldn't do the way it once had. I had metal in my pelvis, metal in my wrist, and movements that used to be automatic suddenly required thought.

For a while, the obvious question was:

“When will I get back to who I was?”

Eventually I realized that was the wrong bloody question.

I'm not going back.

Neither are you.

And I don't think that's a tragedy.

The man behind you isn't necessarily the best man you're capable of becoming. He's simply the last version of yourself you remember being certain about.

Your scars don't disqualify you. Your age doesn't disqualify you. The things you've been through don't disqualify you.

They change the construction requirements.

That's all.

You build differently now. Hopefully with more intelligence, more patience, more respect for what recovery actually costs and, if we've learned anything at all, considerably less stupidity.

I don't want my old body back anymore.

I want to know what I can build with this one.

The one that's been knocked around, repaired, tested and is still here asking for work.

That interests me far more than trying to recreate something that existed twenty or thirty years ago.

Maybe that's what reconstruction really means.

You don't pretend nothing happened. You don't hide the damage or spend the rest of your life mourning the original structure.

You look at what's still standing.

You reinforce what needs reinforcing.

Then you build again.

So if you've been waiting to feel like your old self again, stop waiting for him.

He already did his job.

Now build the man who comes next.

— Psymon

“The 1-Hour Breakthrough Call for Men Over 50”