I struggle with sense of self, and therefore have a really difficult time finding the good in ME...I can look at anyone else and name 5 different things about them that are positive and uplifting, but the second my therapist looks at me and says, "who are you without the label of mom?", I suddenly become crap for brains and can't think of a single thing.
My label has been mom for 11 years. It's safe to deduce that because I am 34, I have not always been a mom...at least I *think* that's how math works.
Being a mom is hard shit. For reals. Whether you work or stay at home with your kids, being a mother is legit the hardest thing I have ever done in my life. I used to think AP Biology was hard........I used to think that dating was hard.......oh the na·ive·té of what was once a carefree Heather.
It's the most rewarding thing I have ever experienced in my life, and I wouldn't trade my kids for all the Kneader's french toast in the world, but, GOOD LORD ARE THESE TINY HUMANS TRYING TO KILL ME?
I think the boss toddler is out to make me completely gray by her 5th birthday. Well, joke's on you kid, because then I can dye my hair purple without having to bleach it first, so take that tiny dictator!
She loves me a little too much. Is that a thing? I think it is...she wants to sit on my lap when I use the potty, so...yeah...it's definitely a thing. And, the fact that I just typed the words "use the potty" into this blog is proof that I need more adult time away from kids.
I am a glutton for punishment, so I decided that on my birthday, instead of sleeping in and staying on the couch in my bra-less state, I would take my 4 monkeys to get pictures done...at 9:40 in the morning...ON my birthday...
I'm smart like that.
Turns out though, when looking through all the pictures and seeing each of my children's very differing personalities shine through, I felt really good about that decision. I started the day off hoping to go under the radar. I didn't want special treatment or acknowledgment just for being born. I wanted it to remain just another day, but, Facebook blew my cover and reminded everyone it was the day of my birth, and I had over 100 comments from friends wishing me a happy birthday. I ended the day feeling a myriad of emotions, ranging from extreme gratitude to pure awe that I have so many that took the time to tell me happy birthday. Thank you, to all of you.
For those that didn't tell me happy birthday, you are now dead to me.
I digress...seeing each of my kids and comparing these pictures to the last time we took pictures and hung them on the wall, it struck me that I literally grew those people inside my body, then birthed those people into this world, and somehow have managed to keep them healthy and relatively happy to this point. I feel like this should be acknowledged because I know there are so many out there struggling, like me, with what defines them as a person. Whether you birthed your children, or you adopted your children, it is ALL miraculous. Each day that they are smiling and happy, you have done something amazing. You are giving of yourself 24/7, even on the days where you'd rather lie in bed and cry from the physical and emotional pain of depression and anxiety. I suffer from not believing in my own worth, and even now as I write all of this out, I am still not convinced that *I* am worth as much as someone who saves lives or writes amazing novels for a living. It's something I struggle with internally and I flip back and forth from hot to cold on the matter, just as quickly as my husband is able to go from awake to snoring every night.
I exhaust myself. I am trying so hard to work out the kinks in my personal way of thinking but it is so.much.work and some days it's all I have in me to get out of bed. I spend a lot of time sitting on my couch not answering phone calls, texts, or knocks at the door. The anxiety is so bad sometimes that I can't breathe. In those moments, I rely on my meds to get me through until it's time for my head to hit the pillow and start the process all over again the next day.
Side note: I really wish marijuana was legal here in Utah. The medicinal benefits far outweigh the negatives that people choose to make up in their mind about it. Unless you have experience with marijuana and it's affects on you personally, I don't feel you have the right to have an opinion other than you don't know anything about it. There are far more Rx meds that are much more detrimental to my addictive personality than weed #justsayin
So...here I sit at 34 trying to find myself outside of motherhood. What do I like? Who am I? What makes me, me?