I am 98% sure I am having a full-blown identity crisis.

I am confident in my gender preference, sexual preference and my current status as being married and a mother.

Everything else is up for grabs.

When you become a parent your priorities don’t just shift. You don’t just put your needs on the back burner. You set them on fire and watch them turn to ash and waft away in the wind.

ashes

When it comes to my self-worth, I didn’t put all my eggs in one basket. There was a basket for being a successful News Producer, a basket for looking good, a basket for being loyal and loving and a basket for maintaining my sense of humor.

I didn’t drop the basket, but I may have crashed the delivery truck.

cracked eggs

I have always wrapped up my self-confidence in a blanket of compliments. I was a great writer. I was skinny and attractive. I was smart and witty. Quirky and fun. Deep and loyal. Cynical and acerbic.

Now, I just feel old and tired. I have been told I am a bad writer and a bad Producer.

I drag my baby weight around like a yoke around my… well, let’s be frank here… belly.

My sense of humor is more bitter than acerbic.

Fun… what is that?

I have forgotten what it feels like to feel awesome.

I know it’s hidden in there somewhere, but you can only be told you’re not good enough for so long before you start to really believe it.

You know how it would feel if someone told you that you have an ugly baby? That’s how it feels when you love something tremendously and are told you suck at it.

ugly baby

I never proclaimed to be a stellar writer, but it’s something I’ve done like it’s a compulsion for my entire life.

To be told that I blow at it is a REAL BLOW.

It has made me question whether I ever had any talent to begin with. Is the full extent of my skill blogging, like this is some extension of a Dear Diary? Is my writing this right now proof of that?

dear diary

I would be content if I was just focusing on raising two wonderful children, being Suzy homemaker but, instead I am stretched thin like a rubber band across the gap between work and home.

rubberband

I haven’t changed how much effort I put into my job, but suddenly have hit a ceiling. While I continue to pour effort into a job where I am underappreciated, my home is collecting dog fur and grime and a stranger is cleaning it up. My kids have started to know when “Linda cleaned” the house.

I am opting for canned veggies, fish sticks and mac and cheese for the kids when I want to master a real meal.

I want to have someone take a picture of me that isn’t just from the shoulders up that I don’t immediately have the urge to delete.

There is the person I was, the person I am and the person I want to be.

They are all entirely different. I would love to say I’m ready to dig deep and reach that goal, but I’ve got to get out of the hole I’m already in first.

I need to be able to pour my heart and soul into something and have someone say just one time, “job well done.”

Let’s make it one word. Kudos. It’s cheap, cliche and a candy bar. I’ll take it.

kudosThat being said, I am now going to rush to the store to buy ingredients to make a bunch of fancy food and still try to make it to a block party on my cul-de-sac without vomiting from anxiety.

Advertisements