That is the question Shakespeare asked of us. It indicates a choice is to be made. It forces the person being asked to take an active role in the conversation. It is existential. It is profound. It is the square root of who we are.

When I was in my forties, I had a teenager and a toddler and a husband who worked a difficult job and was gone long hours. He wasn’t a demonstrative person. I was involved in a hundred different things, trying to keep all the plates spinning on the sticks like the guy on Ted Mack’s Amateur Hour. Yet my soul was starving to death and when everything came crashing down around me, as it was bound to do, I saw a psychiatrist for depression and anxiety. We had worked together for a few weeks when he asked me a question I could not answer. As a matter of fact, I could not comprehend what was being asked.

“What does GINNY want?”

I was dumbfounded. Not only did I not know what Ginny wanted…I didn’t know who Ginny WAS. I don’t mean in an amnesiac kind of way. I mean in an existential kind of way. I was in my forties and no one, including myself, had ever asked me what I wanted. I changed doctors. I thought something was wrong with him to ask such a weird question. I could not relate.

I did finally get better and it was a terribly rocky road to get there. But, even in my “wellness”, I didn’t realize I still couldn’t answer the question. I didn’t realize I still didn’t understand what was being asked. Not until a few months after Mr. Virgo died did I confront my identity.

Initially it was “Who am I without Mr. Virgo?” I’m a mother…a grandmother…an aunt, sister, friend, employee, artist, writer, explorer…yada, yada, yada. These are my roles in life…my assigned titles that categorize where I sit at the big kid’s table. I am a Christian and that gives me great comfort. But….what do I want? The BIG “I”. The “I” that expands far beyond the confines of familial roles.

This is the first time I have felt my “wholeness”. I feel expansive with limitless possibilities. I’m learning to enjoy my own company without relying on someone else’s compass. I like this person I am becoming. I love that I am a spacial thinker. I love that I am just the right age and size and that my skin fits me and makes reminders around my eyes that I have had great moments of joy in my life. I get a kick out of my ability to find the humor in just about any situation. I am touched by my heart when it aches with compassion. I am happy that I can cry tears of grief for a man I loved more than life. It means I HAD that love…that I FELT that connection with another soul. And I am grateful that I hold these memories close to my heart. They comfort me as well.

I don’t know if I will always be alone. But for right now, I am busy stretching my wings, flapping them around, doing a few little test flights here and there. I’m learning, not only what Ginny WANTS, but also who Ginny IS. I am making an active choice…to be or not to be. I am happy to just be ME.

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