Who am I?
I don’t really know.
The past few years I have been working on figuring that out.
I’ve spent my whole life never feeling like I belonged in my body or my own life. I have always felt out of place. And I have always tried to be what I felt society, my family, friends, peers expected.
I couldn’t allow myself the freedom to be whatever real me there was bubbling at the surface. I cared far too much about others opinions or my perceived notion of those opinions.
I spent a lot of time growing up disassociating. I would feel like I was a bystander watching my life live out. I would lose hours. I felt like I wasn’t really me within that existence. Then I would snap out of that haze and be shocked by reality. It was dizzying and sometimes frightening. Or I would get so lost in a daydream of a different life, a life I felt was more befitting, then I would be pulled back abrubtly to reality.
I never knew what it was then. I never told anyone about it. As I grew older those moments happened less. I made conscience effort to be in the real world. Then, I put allI had into fitting into the box if what I should be.
So, I spent my life trying to be those things I perceived society said I should be.
As an adult it is still hard not to fall into those habits. I still feel as if I am supposed to be in that box, but I am trying to be more me. Whoever she is. I have been enjoying the things I like without worrying too much how others would think of it. I have been dying my hair different colors and trying out different hairstyles. I’m choosing clothing that I like and feel comfortable in. I try different makeup colors when I actually wear it.
Amazingly, I have gotten positive feedback. Not that I have asked for it, but I’m realizing maybe all of the judgement and expectation I have always felt was just my head being it’s cruel self.
It isn’t very pretty. I struggle with balance. Depending on the trigger I either overeat for comfort or restrict out of emotional pain.
I have never found a happy medium. When stress over takes me and I feel the dip I turn to food for solace. I don’t really get comfort from it though because too many years of abusing food has wreaked havoc on my body. I am overweight, sluggish, and tired all of the time. I have always struggled with body image and self esteem issues as well so it only keeps me in a constant state of self loathing and hate. Then I tend to flip the switch and restrict food for a while because that worked for me when I was a teen. Or so is how I felt.
It is a vicious cycle.
Every year I say the same. This year is my year. I will break the cycle and overcome. I will lose the weight, and every year ends the same. I stay stuck in the cycle.
I stay stressed, with raising babies and dealing with my own self. I continue to eat my pain and feelings. And I stay down. I stay sad. I stay tired.
Yet, here we are again. New year, new me. Right?
I’m still working on it. But, I really am tired of it all. I really want to break this cycle. I want to find my happy again.
Thus, part of the reason I decided to start this blogging thing to begin with. As a sort of journaling therapy for myself.
Here’s to a new me. Maybe?
Today is my youngest son’s birthday. I rejoice in this day. I go out of my way every year to make my kids feel extra special on their birthdays. No matter how much money we have, what is stressing me, or what is going on in our lives. I decorate our table with party ware, hang birthday banners, either cook their favorite breakfast or surprise them with donuts. I give them a couple of gifts and sing Happy Birthday. Every year. It isn’t much but they love it.
I love their innocence. I want to keep that magic alive for them as long as possible.
We had had a rough couple of birthdays for this little guy. Money has been tight in years past, dad was working out of state, Pop Pop died the week prior. Even through these difficult times I put on a happy face and wrap him up in all my love.
That blind innocence gets harder to keep alive each year. At school not too long ago, they had a gun safety course. One day this month they have drill for what to do if there is a shooting at their school. My sweet little innocent (now) seven year old came home asking if we have guns in the house and what he should do if he found one. It broke my heart that he has that on his mind and heart. In light of recent events, I am even more sad.
It breaks my heart that my kids are growing up in a world where we have to have safety drills for a school shooter. Or a world where we have to worry about little kids getting the family gun, bringing it to school, and accidentally shooting a classmate. We live in a world where people stalk mothers in parking lots and grocery stores trying to steal their children away to sell them to the highest bidder. A world where people go to night clubs, festivals, and concerts and open fire or set off bombs on people just trying to have a good time. Our world has gone to hell in a handbasket.
This world is the one my children are growing up in. I fear for them every single day. Each birthday signifies one step closer to when they are thrust out into this big bad world all on their own.
For now though, there is nothing I can do but love them and hold them a little longer, hug them a little tighter. Most of all, I can appreciate the moments I have with them.