The Her That Is Me

Ever since I was 10 or 12 years old, I've felt like there was a secret me inside, the real me waiting to get out. I thought I would grow up and somehow bloom into her. I suppose I came close in my early/mid twenties as I graduated from college but there was still so much holding back-

This person I guess I've always been afraid of showing to the world. She might be wrong...

No, not wrong. Just... there's shame or guilt or fear in there somehow. But of what? And why?

She's not bad.

She's too visible.

And with visibility comes confrontation. Disagreement. It's somehow been easier to just try to be what I'm expected to be and not cause any waves. To be invisible.

The sadly ironic thing is that as a mother  I NEED to be her. I NEED to know her. My children need her.

I'm still trying to form this picture in my head of what I'm supposed to be and what I'm supposed to look like as a mother. Jeff's right. I read too many books and get caught up in what it's supposed to be instead of going with our flow. Looking at us. Not even what we need to be but being what we are.

I need to look at her.