I have been taking a lot of time lately to write and reflect
on my life, to try and find some sort of meaning within my circumstances. My separation from Raul has left me with a
lot of mixed feelings and has touched on some of my lies and insecurities, but
even more than that, it has led me to really search within and work on
myself. I am beginning to recognize my
own unhealthy drive, my coping mechanisms, and am trying to discover who I truly
am.
I grew up adopted into a family who frequently reminded me
that I wasn’t “really” one of them and it left me with some deep wounds. I spent my childhood feeling rejected and
like I wasn’t good enough. I then spent
most of high school trying to prove that I was worth it. I took honors classes, got mostly A’s and B’s,
went on missions trips, worked my butt off, and was pretty self-sufficient. I tried to prove my worth, yet still never
felt like I belonged.
I was constantly trying to find my validation in people be
it friends, teachers, parents, youth leaders, or boys. I needed someone to love me and make me feel
like I was special, I needed someone to SEE me, because, well, I couldn’t see
me. Senior year of high school I had
given up on myself. I was depressed,
suicidal, stopped doing my school work, was throwing up my food, I worked all
the time (because money is happiness right?), and ended up going against all of
my convictions and lost my virginity to Raul.
That created a lot of guilt for me and in some ways made me lose sight
of myself even more.
My need to prove myself only intensified through this, and even
though it pulled me out of my depression, it was unhealthy. I had false identity, false validation, and
false purpose. I started living for this
relationship and tried to mold myself into what I thought he wanted. We got pregnant and married by 18 and I once
again took on new roles and did them with something to prove. I became the best wife and mother I
could. I read all kinds of books about
babies and parenting, and I worked my hardest to be the best mom that I could
be. I tried to prove that even a teen
mom could be a great mom.
With marriage I became this 1950’s style wife. My house was always perfectly clean. The laundry was always washed, folded, and put
away. Dinner was on the table hot from
the oven when he walked in the door from work.
I paid all the bills and did the budget.
For the most part he had little to no responsibility inside the house. I thought that if I could be the perfect wife
that he would love me and not need anyone or anything else. I thought who I was as a person was a wife
and mother. It was the only identity I
found, and yet I was frequently failing.
I have one kid who acts like he hates me, my own husband doesn’t choose
me, and even though I created this big family I feel so alone.
So, who am I? Who am
I really? I am not just the little girl
who was not accepted into the family. I
am not someone who failed in high school.
I am not just a failure as a wife.
And I am not just a failure as a mother.
I recently had a really good friend tell me that being a mom isn’t who I
am, it is just a role that I wear, like slipping into a pair of sweats. And this was profound, not just because I
live in sweats, but also because I have thought for so long that I AM a mom,
that it defines me, and that I have really nothing else about me. It made me realize that I wear a lot of roles
like friend, daughter, wife, mom, sister, photographer, etc. but that I don’t
know who I truly AM. What is my identity? Who am I if I am not trying to prove myself
as being perfect in any of the roles that I put on? Take away the roles, and who am I truly?
One thing I do know is that I am not perfect, no matter how
hard I try to be. Striving for
perfection has done nothing but made me feel like a failure and made me walk
around in shame for failing. I fail my
kids, my friends, the school, and myself on a daily basis. I then carry around the stress and guilt for
being a failure and end up exploding on those closest to me. I then feel like even more of a failure and
beat myself up for it even more. I need
to learn to strive for my best and offer myself grace for my shortcomings.
Another thing I know is that I am not as strong as people
think I am. I am frequently told how
shockingly strong I am because I appear to cope so well with things. My mom died and I didn’t shut down and I can
just talk about it as fact. My marriage
has had severely painful issues ALWAYS and people tell me “oh my gosh, I wouldn’t
be able to get out of bed if I was dealing with that. You’re so strong!” We
constantly have financial struggles because we had four kids by 23 years old and
don’t have a lot of earning potential.
People frequently tell me how strong I am for being able to deal with
the financial stress. News flash, being “strong”
is a coping mechanism. I put on a brave
face and act like I am handling it well, when in reality I am dying inside with
the weight of the world on my shoulders.
And I carry all of it alone. There
has always been and there still is so much pressure on me to hold everything
together. I feel like I am always so close to cracking.
I also know that I am not supermom. I am frequently called supermom and honestly
wear it as a badge of honor. I have considered
myself supermom for so long, but I am not.
Yes, I am organized. Yes, I am
very involved with my kids. Yes, I am a
good mom, but I am NOT supermom. I frequently
snap at my kids when they don’t deserve it.
I am in such need for order, organization, and control that it often gets
in the way of my relationship with my kids.
I am so frequently overwhelmed with running this household mostly by
myself that I am shut down emotionally. When they were little, I was super
patient and parented in kindness, and now I feel like I snap at the smallest thing
and don’t even give them a chance to be kids.
(Then enters that failure mentality and the cycle begins again.) I am trying
to allow healing in my house especially with the huge life changes, but I am
NOT supermom and striving to be just opens me up to more disappointment in myself.
So, now that I know who I am not, and I know the difference
between roles and identity, who AM I!?!? Who is Ally/Allysia if she is not a
mom or wife? Well, I am hoping that I
can find out. And in the meantime, I am
needing to open up all the stuffed emotions and grief that I have been putting
off for years, and work through all of it rather than trying to be strong and
not deal with real issues.
