I’m not really sure what direction this post is going to take.
Over summer, I heard multiple times that I need to be more candid. That people don’t know me- and that they want to, which is totally bizarre to me. I don’t really show myself to anyone. It didn’t fully occur to me that I put on a front in nearly every aspect of my life.
There are different versions of me.
Let’s talk about my appearance for a moment. Looking at me, you see a pink haired, red lipped, confident person. (Honestly, before my hair was pink, Koko and I would joke that I was invisible. It wasn’t really a joke though.) When I actually do my hair, I can’t walk through a store without being complimented at least half a dozen times- which is both awesome and terrifying. They aren’t always compliments either. I definitely get the “she must be crazy” looks too. I’ve heard people are intimidated by me, which is laughable- if only they took a second and tried to talk to me. I hide behind my hair. It basically gets to be confident for me. It’s a conversation starter-which is helpful to me and you’ll see why in the next paragraph.
Now…we can talk about me-I guess. This is the first post I’ve actually dreaded. I hate talking about myself. I am probably the most self conscious human being on the planet. I am awkward in person. Like-way awkward. I am always second guessing myself. I am a perfectionist and far from perfect. I’m always mentally at war with myself. I truly hate social situations. I don’t know how to talk to adults-which feels really weird to type. I don’t really make a great first impression-ever. I’ve had people think I’m a bitch because I don’t strike up a conversation…even though in my head I’ve gone through a million scenarios. I have anxiety. Like, sometimes, overwhelming anxiety. I am my own worst enemy. In my eyes, I am never good enough. My work is never good enough. I struggle a lot with perfection. I always want to be more. I struggle with saying no. I never want to let anyone down-even if I’m barely holding it together. I never let anyone see the raw-real me. I refuse to be vulnerable-which has both helped and hurt me. I rarely cry at movies-though TVs This Is Us has broken me down a few times. I hate crying in front of people-even my husband.
I have never written any of this out before and it’s both freeing and fearsome.
There is photographer me. I have a love/hate with photographer me. I love…no, I SERIOUSLY LOVE taking photos of people. I really do. I love connecting with people in a way that I only can when I have my camera. The part I hate is how I feel after I take the photos. I both look forward to and dread the reveal of the photos. I work myself up and start picking things apart – things I think I should have done better. It’s stressful when people are comparing their photos to pinterest boards that I couldn’t possibly achieve. There’s a lot of pressure now. I just want to capture real moments- the happy, the love, the chaos-and show you how gorgeous your family really is. But, I never feel like I can say that.
There is coach me. I love coaching. I have a group of the most amazing young ladies. They often pull me out of any rut that they have no idea I’m in. It’s not something I ever thought I’d end up doing. I am far from perfect when it comes to coaching. I’d be lying if I said that I don’t stress during practices. I always feel like someone could do it better. That I’m not good enough to be coaching. Although, I am proud of where I’ve come with coaching- I will continue to try and be more for them. It has built me up in ways I never would have thought. After every practice we circle up and reflect. My hope is that they are more confident than where they started. I want to build them up. I want them to be proud of themselves for the work they do. I want them to know that hard work and looking out for each other is important. That, win or lose, we stay strong, have fun, and always give our best effort. Again, I have that mental tug of war. It follows me everywhere.
There is Mom me. Probably my favorite and most terrifying me. I feel like it’s the one aspect of my life that I’m the least apologetic. I can be scary. I can never stick up for myself, but get my kids involved-and I don’t care if it’s three scary guys that could easily kick Koko’s ass…I’m going to say something. (This actually happened!) I don’t give in to social pressure when it comes to my family…and at the same time I always feel like I could be doing better. Especially with Micah’s history. But, I think everyone is just winging it. I’m just tired of the “my family is perfect” contest on social media. Guess what, there’s dishes in my sink. I haven’t cleaned up the table from dinner yet. There is a pile of laundry on the floor in my room-not even in the laundry basket at the moment. It’s a mess. I don’t care right now.
Instead, I’m here. I’m writing a post I’m not sure I’ll publish. The thought of people reading this…stresses me out. I don’t pretend to be perfect. I don’t pretend to have my life together…I just don’t really focus on me-because when I do, I’m not fun to be around. Instead I focus on my family. I am most me when I am with them. They are me.