Something I’ve been struggling a lot with lately is figuring out who I really am. Aside from a mom and a wife and all the roles that go along with that…who am I?
What makes me happy? What makes me feel fulfilled, or unique, or like an individual? I honestly do not have the answer to those questions.
I have so little time for myself, time to learn and discover myself, that I’m left feeling like a stranger in my own mind.
This has always been hard for me to grasp, the concept of who I really am. Even before I had kids, I never really knew who I was.
I mean, does anyone? What does it really mean to know who you are?
What do you say when people ask you who you are?
I don’t think I know what it means to know who you are. I’m so caught up in my identities to other people that I’ve lost who I am to myself, which is what’s probably most important.
I know my role as a mom, I know my role as a wife, but I don’t know my role for myself.
And in the moments when I’m not playing a role to my children or my husband, in those quiet moments where I’m alone with myself, I don’t know what’s left.
There’s little that makes me feel whole or complete, and I think it’s because there’s such a disconnect with myself.
It’s hard to practice effective self care when you don’t know who you are and what you need. It’s hard to fill up your cup when you don’t know what to fill it with.
Honestly, I’m not sure how to learn who I am. And with being pregnant again now, I feel I’m further losing my identity into that of motherhood, and not one of individualism.
I think a big part of the problem is that I’ve been so disconnected with myself, my past, and my trauma for so long. I’ve blamed myself for others actions against me, I’ve hated myself, and I’ve neglected myself for nearly my entire life.
It’s hard to learn how to love yourself when you’ve spent a lifetime hating and blaming yourself. Why would you want to know a person like that?
But, I think in order to heal, there needs to be a level of forgiveness. I don’t think I can ever really heal from all of the trauma I’ve been through without first forgiving myself for all the blame I’ve unjustly placed on myself, and then learning how to love myself.
I don’t think I deserve all the hatred I feel towards myself. Really, no one does.
So often I find myself asking questions that I don’t have the answers to, and I wonder if anyone really does.
Maybe it’s okay to not have the answers, or maybe the answers are much easier than I’m giving them credit for.
I want to know who I am. I owe it to myself and I owe it to the people around me. Feeling lost when I’m alone is very…unsettling. It’s uncomfortable, and it’s unpleasant.
I think it’s probably the reason I so easily blend in with any given crowd, because I’ve learned how to mold myself into the needs of my surroundings, and not how to stand on my own two feet and be unapologetically myself.
Shit, I don’t even know who I am enough to be unapologetically myself.
You’d think, after 27 years, a person would know herself. But I surely don’t.
I’m hoping it’s possible that maybe, just maybe, I might be a person worth knowing.
If only I knew where to start.