I am a woman.
I am a mother of two.
I am a wife, a best friend, and a girlfriend.
I am a shoulder to cry on, a sounding board, an audience.
I am an introvert, a book-worm, a girl unknown.
I am a female trying to keep her individuality in this world of popular opinions.
It has been a long journey to accept me for who I am. And I am still working on it. Through the many awkward years of growing up, I’ve had to constantly ask myself, “Who am I?” Up until high school, I didn’t really pay attention to it. But alas, the dreadful woes of high school broke me. Hormones, popular girls, cute boys – oh ya, it all broke me. And for me, I just did not relate to anyone that much.
Sure, I had friends. I felt comfortable enough to be around them. But growing up, I didn’t see myself as I saw them. There was a cultural difference, but more than that, my parents just did not raise me the same way. I didn’t have the freedom that others did. It wasn’t bad by any means, it just wasn’t what I thought was the norm.
I found myself getting lost in books. Each library trip brought a new adventure, a new friend, a new person to become. It allowed me to belong to the different world of heroes and misfits, without having to have the social awkwardness that belongs at the playground. Eventually, I also found myself relating to music. Each beat spoke volumes, and each chorus preached a message. There wasn’t a need for that awkward hello, because the music became the conversation.
But through the years, I have found that it is easier to belong than it is to accept who I am. It’s easier to say, “Yes, I am also.” versus “Yes, I am.”
And here I am, in my 30s. I am a wife, a mother, a daughter, and so much more. I am comfortable in my skin, of who I am.
And while I am still learning, I know that I am.