Today she asked the question, "Who do you think you are?" as part of her fresh horses meme.
It got me thinking....
Who do I think I am?
I am the woman who started this post 30 minutes ago and then stopped when my youngest came in scratching his head, did the baboon nit-finding search in his hair, discovered some and put a treatment through it. You can call me the NIT HATER, because I hate the little things and cannot seem to win the war against them! Between school and childcare I feel like all I am ever doing is eradicating them from hair follicles!
I am a single woman after being in a monogamous (ha ha...my side of it anyway) relationship since the age of 18! I am not quite sure what it even means to be one again. I feel like the package I will be presenting future suitors is far too complex for anyone to consider..and yet I hope within the depths of my heart that that is purely synacism and that one day...one day I might not be single anymore.
I am a single Mum. A Single Mum. One of my good friends referred to me as one to another person the other day and it shocked the shit out of me for a minute. My breath stunted and my eyes widened and then I relaxed once more. It is true, but that was the first time that anyone had said it about me, to me and it sounded foreign. Like a piece of clothing that I hadput on for the first time but didn't quite fit into comfortably yet and then someone had turned the spotlight on me and suddenly the whole room was looking at me..in the outfit...and I had to make a quick decision to go forward confidently or falter..I moved forward confidently...kind of. Being a single Mum is not much different to being the Mum I was before if I am completely honest. I did everything myself, with the kids at nearly all times. In fact since being seperated from my husband I have had more time away from my children than in the whole 8 years I have been a Mum...and that is when they have their time with their Dad! (which has not been a large amount of time I can assure you :( ). Being a single Mum is hard, it means missing out on some things because I cannot just go out (never really could without begging and then having to listen to how lucky I was to be allowed to go while married anyway) whenever I am invited to something without ensuring I have a babysitter first. I make all the decisions (EEK), I do all the work (EEK), I get all the LOVE (awww) . Being a single Mum compared to being a married one in my instance at least, is a hell of a lot of fun :) .
I am a learner of Aspergers daily. My sons (one confirmed, one going through diagnosis now) have Aspergers Syndrome which is on the Autism Spectrum and they are absolutely awesome. No really, I am not just saying that because they are my sons, there is something about the Aspie brain which I find absolutely fantastic. I love being able to share every single day with these gorgeous boys and see the world through their rainbow tinted eyes. They think differently, see things differently and are so much more honest than most of the rest of the world. They call a spade a spade and to do anything differently than this they need to learn why and how and then....then they need to choose to, because they want to, and not because we as a society tell them too. They are sensitive and caring, intrinsic and clever and funny..humourous...and awesome to have around if you want to know the specifics of a past event or how something works ;) . They are also timid and shy at times and the life of the party at others (but only a party that contains people they love and are comfortable with) . I love my boys and their Aspergers. Sure sometimes it is hard, especially when they are over stimulated and result in meltdowns which can be violent and loud and scary and hard to handle...but I am also sometimes envious of the fact that their bodies and brains make them do this to relieve the tension..seems like a lot better alternative than bottling it and then losing it in a crumbling mess as I tend to do ;) . They have made me a better humanitarian.
I am a Mother to a daughter. I have a girl who lights my world with a switch ranging from dimming to shimmering brightness. At just 6 she is articulate and so much older than she seems. She can calm her brothers with her words and her touch (she can also incense them! Well they are her brothers) . When things need doing she will be there beside me doing them. She doles out hugs and kisses when required and similarly asks for them when needed. To watch her dance and sing and love every moment of life is a glimpse into the meaning of life. She feels so much and so deeply that sometimes life is hard for her, slights of friendship can break her heart and tiredness can make everything seem just too much. She is my shadow and reflection. At times infuriating me so much in the stubborness that is my genes shining through. At others making me laugh and smile so much my cheek muscles ache. She is my hard girl, my gorgeous, confident, strong girl. She is 6...a fact I have to constantly remind myself as she is far far older than that and always has been. I am lucky.
Who do I think I am? I am a chameleon. The emotions and actions of others seep in and alter my own until I mirror their feelings, I feel their pain, their joy...I worry far too much and I feel far too deep. I do not watch the news and I limit what I see for what I see and care for effects me deeply...I am too sensitive and too caring and my best friends tell me they see that under a positive rather than negative lamp.
I am a crier. I cry and cry in the car, in the house, in the dark...when noone is looking and noone is there I sob and crawl into the fetal position as the waves and waves of black wash over me and the loneliness seeps right through every fibre of my being until there is nothing but a wide gaping hole of empty. I carry it at times like a cloak, wrapped tight yet letting the biting cold wind shatter through my thin shield of resistance! It holds nothing but torment and pain. My friends tear pieces off with their words and their love. The kisses of my children, the hugs they demand, legs wrapped around waste, little fingers linked and squeezed tightly together, knuckles turned white..never to let go. The shield dissipates a bit. I've spent majority of my life willing tears to come...now I will them to stay far away (they don't listen!).
I am a survivor. I don't think that I am most of the time but then I become aware of the feeling, the sound of the beat as it steadly beats on. gagoong, gagoong, gagoong. It beats and not just in myself but in three other beings. Therefore I see and I know that I am a survivor, for we are here and we are functioning and living and getting on with life despite the changes and the hard times....we are living. Our hearts beat on. I am a survivor.
I am a teacher. I teach children in Primary school to read and write, to cook and to explore, to question and to learn, to laugh and I hug them when they cry. I spend more awake hours with other peoples children than my own and I love them as though they are my own. Their pain hurts me, their fights challenge me, their smiles electrify me. I joke a lot with them, I tease in jest and I compliment in real and we learn.....we learn all day every day and it is fun and wonderful. I have seen one of Earth's greatest wonders...the gleam of learning when it hits for the first time, the spark in a childs eye as they suddenly learn something they have struggled with for so long. It is a miracle, it is wonderful...it is worth more than the pay packet I get paid to see it. I get to read the most amazing stories, ideas, thoughts from our future leaders and I feel privilaged to do so. I get to meet their parents and tell them how much I think they are doing a great job, share their child with them, help them, teach them and learn from them. There isn't much to not love about that. I get to be a different me when with them and I like that me.
I am a friend...a best friend to a group of very very few. Women who inspire me in every action they take and caring thought they share. I am privy to a few of the most wonderful people on Earth and I wont give them up for anything. I listen...I often, so very very very often do not feel good enough to claim them as mine, to be listed as their friend and I so very very very often tell them that they are far too good to tolerate my rollercoaster of a life and take on the role they have in it. They so very very often tell me to shut up when I say so.
I am so many different things. I am me and sometimes I have no idea who that is at all. Sometimes I hate the person that I am. Sometimes I am not good enough for anything that I do, for the people that surround me, for the job I do nor the children I am bringing up...sometimes I am not good enough for this life. The glasses I wear sometimes are incredibly incredibly harsh.
Who do I think I am? I think that I am a woman that is one day going to look back on this time in her life and realise that all the happiness and love and joy that surrounds her at that moment is a result of this turmoil and pain and journey. I think one day...this mess will be a distant memory but the person who I will be will not be possible without going through it. So I will continue to wade through it..one long or super fast minute at a time....
As Dory would say, "Just Keep Swimming...."
I really like so much of what you have written here. It's nice to meet you (as you see yourself).
ReplyDelete"I am so many different things. I am me and sometimes I have no idea who that is at all." Rings true for me, too.