Don’t forget about Lemma

I ran by Saint Joe’s today. I turned into campus and walked around the track, the same track I made countless memories on. Running, stretching, sweating, laughing, cheering, supporting, striding, giving, receiving, loving….

Running track for 4 years molded me into a lead, a captain. On the team, everybody called me “Lemma;” calling me “Aaron” was an oddity. I began to identify with Lemma because he had certain admirable traits.

He was ferocious, dedicated, and determined. He always looked out for his teammates, supporting them no matter what beef was present. Others looked for him to lead them around the track at the right pace. They looked for his leadership.

Lemma did things whether he felt like it or not.

During quarantine I’ve struggled to balance responsibility with self forgiveness. I’ve been easy on myself because I experienced so much loss–or so I told myself. I haven’t been holding myself accountable because I’ve been operating as Aaron. Plus, I’m more than whatever I identify as because there’s no depth to Who I Am.

That’s all bullshit. I was Lemma once and I loved being him. There’s no reason I can’t tap into who I was to create the ideal of who I want to be. I want to be a leader who holds myself accountable and does the hard things.

Aaron is necessary. But don’t forget about Lemma. It’s time to start embracing both.

It’s time to remember who I was to become Who I am.

My Future Self

From January to July of this year, I wore a man bun. I kept the sides short and the top long because I wanted to, not because it was functional, easy to manage, or looked good. I wanted to. Long ago I vowed to not pay any attention to other people’s opinions. This is my life and I’m going to live it how I want, whether that means growing a man bun or doing yoga in the grass. My life and my terms.

I cut off my bun in July—I was ready for a change. Now, when I look back at pictures during my man-bun phase, I can’t believe how stupid I looked. The bun was pretty weak and I took way to long in between touch-ups. I looked silly and out of place, confused by whether I wanted to have long hair or be an athlete. Next time I grow my hair out, I’ll grow all of it out, not just the top.

But this has me thinking: I know I don’t care about other’s opinions, but when my future self casts judgement and blame, why do I listen? Who am I, really, if I’m constantly changing? Is my future self myself or is that another person, drastically and unequivocally different from who I am right now? If we’re serious about not caring about what other’s think, should that include ourselves, too?

Maybe we can learn from ourselves without judging ourselves. Maybe we can look at our past selves and love the person who became who you are right now. Maybe we can recognize that our future selves will want to look with distain on who you are now, but we are the one who can stop the judgement in its tracks.

Radical self love, now and in days to come. Learning from my past without judging it. Being who I am while loving who I was. This is what I want to be.