I had an appointment this morning in the neighbourhood where I used to practice. It felt strange to revisit, but not the same sort of melancholy strange as I've experienced at other times. It was a moment of realizing that the past and the experiences in it are no longer relevant to me. That there is a certain absurdity to life. That all the things we get ourselves worked up about become put into perspective with the passing of time.
I don't know why I have been prone to getting stuck in the past. Perhaps it is my jw upbringing or genetics or whatever. But I feel more able to let go of things now. More able to see things as a story playing outside of myself. And not needing to attach myself to the drama and derive my sense of identity from it. Maybe I'm finally growing up. Or maybe I'm growing out. Or maybe I'm just coming home to who I really am.