Today I read a post over at Edenland. As is often the case over there, I laughed and I was moved and my thoughts were provoked. Such is the magic of Eden Riley.
She wrote about who she is. Like, really, who. Which is actually incredibly hard to do.
She threw the floor open to others to join her.
So here I am. Because I love a challenge. Especially one that demands honesty.
And this is where the challenge becomes hard because what we think is honesty and what genuinely is can be disturbingly different. And then there is the not so small matter of perspective. For instance, I want Ryan Gosling to live inside my vagina but others wouldn't let him buff the callouses off their feet (who are these crazies?).
Eden mentions in her post that words are so powerful. Yes, they certainly are. But they can also be sneaky and manipulative. And they can plain lie. Especially when the author wants to protect themselves.
So writing this post is a strange task what with the human propensity for self-preservation.
If asked to tell a little something about myself, my immediate thoughts generally run like this: a small, loud, sweary, quirky, blonde mum and partner. Further back in my mind, a voice says impatient, critical, lazy.
All these things are true. But they feel sort of empty, shallow. And of all the things I am, empty and shallow I am not.
At least, I don't think so. Ughhh, this is hard.
Who we are lies in what we do, not what we say. So maybe I can show you me through things I have done?
I spent the better part of three years with a man who never told me he loved me. Because he didn't.
After our engagement party, Bren wanted to eat the cake topper, an enormous slab of chocolate with "Congratulations Angie and Bren!" written on it. I insisted we put it in the freezer to keep. One year later, as I threw it in the bin, Bren protested that he would have eaten it. I told him not to be ridiculous, it would taste like freezer now.
I wrote a letter to my birth mother telling her that I thought the decision to give me up was the bravest and most noble thing she could ever do and thanking her for doing it. I never heard back from her.
I missed a flight due to anxiety, required Valium the last time we moved house and can not see a future without anti-depressants. For now.
I once found it incredibly difficult to write a post about who I am because my brain kept telling me to bake a chocolate cake and eat it with double cream.
Okay, that happened today. Like, right now.
So let's talk more in the now. Things I do;
– when the house gets really dirty, I online shop instead.
– landfill worries me and thus, I have terrible trouble throwing things away.
– I love my children but I don't really enjoy 'playing' with them.
– I care too much what people think of me but not as in 'Do they think I'm a good person?' because I believe I am and have worked hard to become so over the years. It's more an exterior I want to portray of a woman who is attractive and has a clean house. It's kind of like how I write soul-baring posts here but Photoshop the pictures. I'm bothered by the superficial nature of these concerns and yet, they still plague me.
– I pride myself on my handwritten letters and cards.
– I love and cherish my friends way more than my ability to reply to their texts would indicate.
– I spend most days stuck in the contradictory worlds of gratitude and want. It's confusing.
But if I had to be succinct, I would use my mother's observation of me made many years ago. She said, "You're a mix of ego and low self-esteem."
And she nailed it. Me.
I want the world, feel I deserve it but understand that I'm almost certainly not good enough.
I also like cheese. Which means Eden and I are practically soul sisters.
I'm here. And I'm not half bad.