I've been doing a lot of study over the past several months, along with work (off and on) with a psychiatrist, to try and define myself - to myself. It hasn't been an easy task, and it's by no means completed. It may never actually be a "completed" project - due to the nature of the human beast, and it's constantly changing and adapting state.
In the meantime, gaining a definitive sense of Self has been one of the utmost projects in order to arrive at something at least remotely resembling a state of mental and emotional health. I wasn't joking, after all, when I subtitled this blog "diary of a mad woman." I am not now, nor have I been for several years, anywhere close to a state of mental health or normalcy. The trip into crazyville started years ago, took a long time, and it isn't going to be a fast road back to complete health.
Most people know who they are. They have a very clear view of "ME" and "Self" - I, on the other hand, most frequently do not. I've spent my entire life wearing whatever mask I happened to think people Expected of me for a particular "role" or situation. "Mommy" wasn't particularly Real to me - it was a long term role I was expected to play and fumble my way through, hopefully without making to much of a fool out of myself, or causing to much damage along the way. Same thing with "wife" and "friend" and whatever else happened to be dumped in my lap by fate along the way. I keep hoping that eventually I'll figure out who *I am, as opposed to who "you" (generic - everyone who doesn't inhabit this body) think I "should" be or "could" be or am "supposed" to be.
I'll find me eventually. I hope. And in the meantime, at least I've learned how to slip into the mask for most of the various roles expected of me.
Just a tad too low for comfort . . .
10 hours ago