So here’s the thing… talking???

It’s kinda freaking scary!

It is crazy difficult to open up for the first time – even for the first few times! I highly recommend counseling, but sometimes that’s even harder due to the terribly mistreated image that is often connected with going to counseling. But here’s the thing. I went. And before I could talk to my family about what was really going on in my life, I had pretend conversations from a couch in my counselor’s office.

So please believe me when I say that I really get how hard it is to open up whether you are wanting to talk to a profession or a friend. But let me back up in logic while stepping forward in time. I hope that there is a moment in your journey when you decide that you are going to step out on that limb and open up… but it will never come without it’s precursor moment of deciding that you want and deserve more than your today and are, at bare minimum, willing to consider how to fix it.

Jan 2018 – Who am I?

It’s such a simple question, isn’t it? I am a daughter, a sister, a niece, a granddaughter, and a cousin. Then as I grew, I became a friend and probably an enemy. Further still a teammate, a girlfriend then an ex, and repeat that a handful of times. Eventually an employee of a few, a coworker, a sister-in-law, a roommate, an aunt, a fiancé, a wife, a daughter-in-law… and a mom… finally a mom. See? It’s so simple… isn’t it?

But what else have I been? According to the same timeline, I am an instigator, a protector, a teacher, a learner, an imagination user, and a little too quiet. I am a talker, and a laugher, a helper and a studier, an encourager, and little more too quiet. I am a hard-worker, and a believer, an I-can-do-this reminder, a servant, and an experimenter, a listener, and way too quiet. I am an advocate, a cuddler, a butt-wiper, a patience-giver, a chocolate milk maker, a faker, and a crier because I don’t even know where to begin.

So, who am I? I’m a girl who’s trying to figure out how she got to where she is, a girl who doubts she could do this again for fear that she’d end up feeling the same, and a girl who wishes it were as easy as everyone looking in thinks it is. I laugh – and very loudly at that. It’s my way of concealing my confusion for how success can feel so compartmental… so across the board except for the one area that’s supposed to carry you through the rest.

I am rude when I am exhausted, neglectful when I’m not intentional, and wrong when I try to be thoughtful. I am never enough where it counts and always missing the mark where I should be most understood.

How odd to feel like a champion of others, and be able to engage with such sincerity, to feel valued and know value is communicated – everywhere but where I should be safe. To want openness and to be raw knowing that every previous attempt has left a pile of callouses where vulnerability was abused.

How perfect though that when I was at my lowest, when I looked into the mirror and saw failure throughout that I was engaged for the first time. That I was heard. That I was listened to. That I was looked after. And in the little things. I spoke things I’d never spoken to a single person – and now my life is completely different. I was checked in on when I was broken. I was reminded that I had value. (Insane amounts of thanks to my favorite baby elephant!) When I look in the mirror now, I see a girl who is still clueless, but who finally believes she’s at least a beginner-level rockstar with more to offer than she knows. She doesn’t know what the title of her next chapter should be, but she finally knows she’s worth something – and it’s more than brains or eye candy.

I’m more than a girl who isn’t as hot as her sister. I’m more than insignificant. I’m more than an idiot. I’m more than an old friend that it’s okay to threaten rape to because he thought my no was foreplay, and I’m more than continuing conversations with people because I don’t want to offend. I’m more than a girl who will sit at home and wish she was chosen. I’m more than the second place that plagues me.

In the good days, and in the bad days, I think I ultimately see more in myself than what I ever have before. Because a couple of people decided that I mattered. They decided that I should know that there’s more to me than I knew. So who am I?

I’m a girl beginning to believe in her self-worth and define the her she really wants to be.

Keep in mind that we are tracking through this story from today’s vantage point of knowing now what I really should have known then. There’s something crucial that you need to know before we part today. I was completely unable to push forward in my life until I realized it, and keep in mind that while our story truly started in the middle of ’15, it took me until ’16 to be honest with myself and until ’18 to begin to realize why it mattered. We are now in 2019, and there is still a significant amount of story to go, but what I learned, and what I desperately want you to begin to believe no matter who you are, what your story is, and especially no matter what the jerks in this world tell you…

…you are ALWAYS worth more than your scars.