Identity

I’ve never really known who I am as a person. I’m a chameleon of sorts; I make friends and blend in with those friends, because it’s comfortable. As a child, my mother always put negative emphasis on the fact that I would often pick up traits of others around me. From phrases to opinions to grinding teeth, I would take pieces of those close to me and make them apart of who I was, because I didn’t know who the real me was.

I’ve had this “fake it til you make it” personality for so long, that it’s hard to break away from. It’s hard to tell myself “it’s okay to be YOU” and actually believe it to be true. My past plays a big role in that; I’ve been burned by friends, family, and significant others so much that I’ve created this hard outer shell for protection. Unfortunately, that protection has simply become who I am to everyone around me.

On the surface, I’m rough around the edges. I have what everyone calls “resting bitch face”; I’m a straight shooter who doesn’t have time for anyone’s nonsense. I’m tough and when backed into a corner, I attack. I’m cold, distant, and oftentimes too serious for my own good. I want love and affection, but because I never give it, I rarely receive it.

But on the inside? I’m afraid of being honest and blunt with people, especially those who matter to me. I’m afraid of being brave, of facing the world every day because I know it’s not a kind place. I’m a caring person who sympathizes with others and can see there are always two sides to every story. I’m a soft, fluffy blanket that you cuddle on the couch with on a cold day. I want to love, cuddle, kiss, and just cherish my loved ones. I want to laugh and be silly; I want to let loose.

Where did all of this self realization come from? Therapy. I’m a fun-loving individual stuck behind a shell of thorns and crushed glass, and I want to break that shell. I’m going to break it. I’m going to learn how to be comfortable with me, and show my husband and my children the me they deserve. Why? Because I deserve to finally be me.