What If the Story Isn't the Whole Story?

What if the story you've been telling yourself about who you are isn't the whole story?

What if the label you've carried for years is only one part of you?

What if the thing you are struggling with right now doesn't erase all the things you are getting right?

And what if someone can frustrate you deeply and still make you incredibly proud?

This has entertained my thoughts because of what I experienced recently with my son which gave me one of those moments as a mother, as a coach and a businesswoman that I want to tuck away somewhere safe.

Simply because I got to watch a little more of the person my son is becoming.

He didn't win something.

It's not because he got the highest marks.

Not because he achieved some big milestone either.

I am watching him grow into a young person I am incredibly proud of, as we navigate the tween years and I brace myself for the teenage years coming my way. 😂

This week, my 12-year-old son walked into an interview for a high school he may potentially attend soon.

He was nervous before he went in.

When he came out, the interviewer came over to my husband and me and gave us some brief feedback about their conversation.

He said:

“I really enjoyed speaking with him. You should be very proud of the young man he is.”

He told us how well Tlotlo engaged, how thoughtfully he spoke about leadership, how he could express what he believes makes a good leader - and what he believes a leader should not be.

They spoke about sport - soccer and tennis - friends and family.

He was asked what his friends would say about him if he wasn't in the room.

Apparently, he said he is funny, that he likes making people laugh and bringing light to uptight situations and environments.

He was also asked whether he has lots of friends and how he chooses his friends.

His answer was:

“Because I relate with people.”

I thought about that answer a lot.

And then later in the week, I spent almost three hours watching him play in his first tennis tournament.

It wasn't about winning.

It was his first tournament. A friendly one. He had even missed school to participate.

What I found myself watching wasn't just the tennis.

I watched him move between groups of children.

Kids he doesn't necessarily know.

Kids who aren't his usual friends.

Different schools. Different personalities.

And there he was - talking, laughing, playing, connecting.

Just being a kid.

And once again, I found myself thinking:

This is what makes me proud.

Not that he is the best player on the court.

Not that he knows exactly what he's doing.

But that he is learning how to find his place in different spaces.

How to speak to people. How to connect. How to be comfortable enough to be himself.

And perhaps that's one of the greatest gifts we can give our children - not a guarantee that life will always go their way, but the confidence and social courage to walk into unfamiliar spaces and find their footing.

And here's the thing. We often have very different conversations at home.

Sometimes they're more than conversations.

They're arguments.

They're fights.

We have our conversations, our disagreements and, of course, those moments when parents apparently know absolutely nothing! 😂 It's not perfect. And nothing is ever perfect.

But this week reminded me:

Our children are not one-dimensional.

The child who frustrates you can also make you incredibly proud.

The child you correct can also teach you something.

The child who still has things to learn can already possess qualities that you hope will carry him through life.

Both things can be true.

And perhaps the same is true for us.

We are not one-dimensional either.

We can be struggling and still be growing.

We can be disappointed in ourselves and still have things to be proud of.

We can have parts of ourselves that need work without making that mean that we are a problem to be fixed.

This hit me even more deeply because watching my son walk into that interview took me back to when I was his age. I once had an interview to get into high school at one of the private schools in the Free State.

I walked into that room...

…and froze.

I couldn't utter a word. I still remember it like it was yesterday.

I grew up believing I was shy.

And perhaps I was.

But today, I am a mother, a coach, a businesswoman.

• I speak to people.

• I facilitate conversations.

• I stand in rooms where I don't always know everyone.

• I ask questions.

• I share my thoughts.

• I create spaces for other people to find their voices.

When did the shy girl become this woman?

Maybe I was shy. Or perhaps I was labelled shy, and over time, I began to believe that was simply who I was.

Maybe she was always there. Maybe she simply needed time.

Maybe the story was never as fixed as I thought it was.

And that is what has stayed with me this week.

Sometimes we mistake a chapter for the whole story.

We do it with our children.

We do it with ourselves.

We look at the difficult behaviour, the failed attempt, the season where we're struggling, the thing we haven't figured out yet - and we allow it to become the definition of who we are.

But perhaps we need to leave room for becoming. Room for contradiction. Room for growth. Room for the possibility that there is more to us than the version of ourselves we have become accustomed to seeing.

Perhaps the question isn't simply:

“Who am I?”

Perhaps it's also:

“Who am I becoming?”

I ask myself this question, too.

Because the story is still being written.

And perhaps we are all allowed to surprise ourselves along the way.