Struggling with identity has always been an issue for me since childhood. I never knew where I fit in because nothing ever felt right. I always felt awkward in whatever social circle I happened to be in – and I drifted between them all. Always feeling like an outsider looking in, longing to belong somewhere.
These feelings followed me into adulthood and even into motherhood. I never felt like I could relate to the other moms in my small community and I could feel the distance between myself and them. I tried to act the part, but there was something off about me it seemed.
After years of wearing so many masks trying to fit in somewhere, my mind broke into a thousand pieces. It felt like I crumbled from the inside out and all that was left was a shell of my physical being. Everything else that I had pretended to be was gone.
Feeling lost, alone and afraid, I’ve been trying to build an identity for the last eleven years. It’s meant experimenting with new things and tossing out those that didn’t bring me joy and peace. It’s been a time of learning about boundaries and setting them with people and oftentimes losing them in that process. It’s about placing value in my own self-worth and expecting others to show respect for that.
I envy those that haven’t had to struggle with their identities. Those that who’ve known who they are for a long time and stood up for that person with courage and no shame. I wish I could say that I’m inspired by them right now, but I’m just feeling envy in this moment. And I’m ashamed of that.
I don’t even know where to begin sometimes. I don’t know who I am. I like things because other people like them. I do things because other people expect me to do them. I wish I knew what it was that I wanted. I wish I knew me.