I cannot tell you how many times I have started a blog. I have no idea what is out there, what I've said over the years, or how I've begun attempting to wade through the mess of my mind in a blog. I think, however, now's the time. I want to start a blog and I want to work with it until I'm finished. I don't want to chicken out of expressing myself or finding my voice again. I don't want to write something FOR the audience, because, honestly... I don't expect to have one. I do think this might be a good way for me to get comfortable speaking from the real me, my actual center. We'll see. I'm not quite sure I've ever ACTUALLY done that before.
I am a thirty-something married mother of two. Boom. Started the whole family thing early. I spent many of my troubled teen years rebelling against ambition and intelligence and insisting that all I wanted was to get married and have children. Shortly after my junior year, I had an amazing study-abroad experience which made me think, "Oh man! Maybe I should really apply myself to this whole college thing and go do exciting, productive, lucrative and adventurous things with my degree!"
The day before Senior Week, I found out I was pregnant. Three months later, I was married. Five months after that, I became a mother.
I just skipped over a whole lot, but that's what my heart is telling me to do right now. There's a lot I'll revisit at a later time. I'll have to, if I'm going to work through my inner shenanigans.
I spent about six years (while, you know, raising my eldest, having another baby, trying to work through the whole "SURPRISE" marriage thing) resenting myself, my decisions, and of course feeling rather sorry for myself that life had handed me.... well, exactly what I'd been claiming to want. Complicated woman that I am, the grass was greener. WAY GREENER. And lush. And awesome. But all on the other side. My side had me wasting my twenties doing absolutely nothing with my brains, earning no money, climbing no career ladder. I was little Miss Whiny Pants.
SURELY, SURELY if I were to get a full time job ASAP it would fix absolutely everything and suddenly bestow upon me a feeling of self-worth. RIGHT?! RIGHT?! I mean, sure! Self esteem problems? Gone. Chip on my shoulder about having been a stay at home mom who started her family at age 22? TOTALLY GONE. All fixed with a full time job.
Then I got a full time job. An awesome job. Seriously love my job. I love my paycheck. I love my coworkers. It has made me realize how amazing my education was, that I actually had some potential. It has made me respect the work I put into my kids, and the work I put into my marriage. I can see now that what I did was important - staying home - however challenging. I love my kids. I love my husband. We have a puppy - I love our puppy.
But nothing was fixed. There was no happy button. There was no clicking. After realizing that, there was sadness. Much sadness. The question came again: "What is wrong with me?" "Why am I broken?"
Nothing is going to get fixed unless I fix it. I know, from experience, that if I set some sort of physical goal for me, it won't fix anything. The problem isn't my body. I've thought all along that it is - and I've done everything under the sun, messed with myself so many ways, hated myself for so long - but I realize that I've been 215 pounds and I've been 109 pounds, and I've felt equally awful about myself at both of those weights.
I'm writing this now because I want to fix me and I can only do that if I'm honest. If I'm in this mental prison - a life I love, a self I hate - maybe other people are, too. We have to fix it.
That's why I'm here. I'm STARTING. I want to finish this. I want to fix it.
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