I ran across the words quoted below this morning. A writing exercise from about ten years ago when words were pouring out of me in a desperate pressure.
I think the focus was self-definition, something I have always hated. You are supposed to write a biography as you begin developing an online presence. It’s the baseline of your brand. Your introduction to the world, your readers. A kind of snap shot of personality and life.
What you have to offer.
I’m not really any better at knowing what to say today than I was those years ago but I found this interesting. It’s revealing to look back at the person you were, or who you thought you were and at the same time a little humbling to wonder if you are more or less yourself these days.
I remember knowing I was a mom, the six kids controlling my every resource made that reality impossible to escape. I was still having a rose colored love affair with my husband. We had yet to recognize the unusual strengths of our relationship, instead spending countless painful hours trying to mirror unions fashioned in cooler fires. Honestly, everything was overshadowed by the unhealed wounds of childhood and the exhaustion of everyday life. We were frantically fixated on the wrong details. Comparison stealing the security of what we know now.
That we were fierce and fallible. Steady and sure.
These words were the beginning for me. Of self-awareness. Self respect. Self love.
I’ve grown more than ten years in the past decade but I still don’t have the words to sell myself to the world.
Maybe that’s the point?
“My hair is always a mess. I don’t leave the house without sunglasses and a coffee cup, rarely bother with makeup and will wear a cami and jeans anywhere. I prefer to be barefoot, can never find my driver’s license, and my credit cards are always breaking because I carry them in my back pocket. A purse is just more responsibility than I can handle.
I touch everything. Function completely on intuition and pattern. Am completely driven and almost totally without internal discipline. My soul is empathetic to the point of discomfort and no matter how incredible it is, my jewelry always ends up in my pocket because my skin screams to breathe.
I am positive that there is nothing in the world that smells better than my husband. I can find the humor in my worst fear, function through the worst of my pain and by all accounts am a force of nature but my heart shatters when he touches my hair.
I am prone to ignoring my phone, never fold my socks and regularly forget that other people can see me. Cut my hair when I’m sad, am often distracted by details, and will compulsively have the last word.
I only see the broad strokes of my environment and yet find the time to fixate on small details. I drive too fast to be reasonable and can’t stand things that are “peely”.
I hate crowds, but hate to be alone. Make each choice carefully, but tend to say everything that runs through my head.
I’ve been a mother for half of my life, am loyal to the point of tragedy and have an unfortunate lack of boundaries when it comes to ‘my people’.
I’ve learned to be still so as not to overwhelm my world. Always have ten things going on at the same time and fall into bed each night completely emptied because I simply don’t seem to be able to accomplish any less.