I get into my head and it’s a crazy place to be. There’s a lot of “stuff” going on up there – most of it is completely made up, or inherently false. Yet as uncomfortable as it is in my imagination, life is more uncomfortable. I try to avoid life. Then complain when it’s no fun. I’m the classic martyr. It’s on my list of things to change about myself.
There’s so many things on that list… lose weight, get a boob job, use more positive parenting skills, get off the couch… sometimes that list seems insurmountable. But wait – WHY DO I HAVE A LIST? Aren’t I good enough just how I am? How can I expect my children to have a self-confidence that they are perfect just how they are, if I’m not happy with myself? Or I try to change them?
I’m sick of trying to fit into a perfect mold. I want to feel good – physically and emotionally. I want to do something I love, and make just enough money to do the extra things I’d like to do. I want to feel comfortable in my own skin. I am scarred, and scared, and angry, and full of self-doubt and love. Love for who I am meant to be.
I’m working on finding her – that person I’m meant to be. She’s in there somewhere – trying to push through the fog in my mind.
PS I did text my brother yesterday – and he texted back. Then of course I analyzed it to death… but that’s another post.