I'm going to apologize in advance to any readers who read this and can figure out the conversation that sparked this post. If you were a part of it, please know I didn't write this in response to any one thing, but more because that post got the wheels turning in my head.
I would like to think that if I ever suddenly died, that one of the primary thoughts people would think about me is, "She was a very loving mother. She would do anything for her children." Because, honestly, I would. I love my children so much. Perhaps, some may think, a little too much. For me, they come first and foremost. And then after them comes my husband, my faith (yes I am working on moving that up the list), my home, my job, and maybe, just maybe, if there is anything left, THEN it's me.
The word "selfless" sounds too prideful. A person who is selfless is someone who puts everything and anything before themselves intentionally... but the thing is, you can't be selfless, if you don't truly believe in the core of you that there is a self. I think that's where my issue lies.
I can't say where the root of all of this is... perhaps it developed over time through my rocky childhood, struggles with bullying, failed relationships, etc. I don't put myself first--ever--because I am not confident in who I am. What is there to put first? (If that makes sense.)
I shower every few days. I last wore makeup at my wedding. I only wear dresses to weddings. I dress comfortably, not stylishly, 96% of the time. I don't work out at a gym or exercise at all. I don't eat insanely healthy or care about what I put into my body (besides what I'm allergic to, plus drugs and alcohol).
When I was in high school I went on a retreat where we got this little printout of a girl and the caption says, "I know that I'm SOMEBODY, because God don't make no junk!" Yes, I believe this... but my actions speak louder than my words and my actions say that I don't.
At the same time, I have no clue how I could possibly do all I do in life and also do more to take care of myself. For starters, the motivation isn't there. I can't say I WANT it, but I don't want to DO anything to get it (yes, much like a spoiled child). Secondly, I already feel maxxed to my limits. Stretched too thin. Every single minute accounted for in one way or another. Even finding time to pee is difficult. I know this isn't the way to live, but I don't know what else to do.
I think, honestly, this is why I struggle with my blog at times. Why am I writing? I'm a nobody. A nobody trying to be a somebody. A poser, if you may.
I want to be a mom, but I also want to be ME. The problem is, I'm going to be turning 33 in a little over a week and I still have no idea who ME is. I'm defined by my children, my husband, my job... strip it all away and what you have is a shell of a person.