Discovering My Identity
"To be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you something else is the greatest accomplishment."
Recently, I have gone through many changes in my life. I almost lost my best friend in this world and then I actually lost my adopted grandmother. The past few months have been challenging to me and have been ones of great reflection.
I suppose death has that0kind of effect on us sometimes and will prompt us to question who we are as a person, what we are leaving behind, and what people will remember about us when we are gone.
It is not the first time I have found myself asking these questions and searching for answers on my own identity. All my life I have been seen as someone's sister, someone's daughter and mostly as someone's mother. While all of those contribute to who I am, I have started asking myself, "If you set those aside, who am I as a person, as myself? What makes me who I am?"
I don't have the answers, though I am excited to search out who I want to be and I have arrived at goals that I want to complete and those are who I want to be remembered for when I finally go. (I do not plan on dying until I am a very very old lady--gotta play lots of pranks and shenanigans as an old woman, just saying).
So tonight, I would like to become a famous published author and a successful businesswoman. I want to be a role model for my children so that someday they look at me and say to others, "see, it didn't matter how many times someone knocked her down. She got up and showed them what she was truly made of."
I want to be a woman my children grow up to be proud of and brag about to their friends (although my two oldest do that now so I think I'm halfway winning that battle already).
I want to show my children and those around me that we choose we are, and what we do with our life. We don't have to let people or their actions define us or where we are going. I'm not naive--I know that some of those actions can contribute to what kind of person we become and may change what kind of path we take in life. But ultimately our destination and the path to it is one we choose ourself.
I am one of those people who love to plan things out and for half my life I was not the woman who did anything spontaneously. I actually find it really hard as a mom to be spontaneous. And don't even get me started on those kind of people who cancel or change things last minute!
I know who I don't want to be and what kind of things I don't like. I think that's half of the journey in finding yourself. If you can eliminate the characteristics you don't want to be seen as, you can start focusing on the positive things.
This week has been the perfect example of this for me. I have been judged and shamed for being a working mom, as if I am doing something wrong by providing for my kids.
I cannot begin to explain the hurt, frustration and anger I have felt at this snap judgment--especially by someone who hasn't truly taken time to know me as a person and who I am.
I am so proud of myself for surviving all the stuff I did from a violently abusive husband. My current employment works with all of my injuries from those 5 years: the dozen concussions, 7 times when my ribs were broken, a back injury made worse and the permanent nerve damage in my arm which causes unbearable pain most days and I just have to deal with the pain.
I have not once let those injuries dictate who I am. They do however dictate what kind of employment I can have, as my physical abilities are not anywhere near what they have been in the past.
Hurt and shamed for who I am tonight, I still stand tall and proud for being a hard-working woman and for showing my kids that you can still build a life no matter what is thrown your way. Tonight I am a proud mother. I am proud of myself, even if others aren't. Tonight this is who I am and I am Me.
About the Creator
marion scott
I am a single mom and have a business I have slowly started working towards launching and successfully maintaining. I am 32 and I have 5 kids. I love writing and have over a dozen projects in the works at the moment. Check out my page!
Keep reading
More stories from marion scott and writers in Confessions and other communities.
True Confessions
Hey Mom, I never told you this before but there is something I have wanted to tell you for years and tonight it is too hard to hold in. I am not sure I will ever have the courage to give you this letter, but all the same at least I will have written it. From the moment I saw you and Dad get married, I knew I wanted that. I wanted a man to share my life with who would love me and look at me as if I was his everything. That was the dawning of my biggest dream in life. Later that expanded to include a house and kids. Now you know that as a single mom, I have managed to attain 1 out of 3 of those things. What you don't know are the daily struggles with simple life that I continue to have, from the moment I got pregnant with Samuel and being a teen mom, I have faced many things in life. But there is one thing that has remained the same for the past 16 years and with my birthday in a few days, I realize I am still struggling with this. There are so many nights when I have gone to bed with an empty stomach and hunger pains that through 16 years, my body became tolerant of, ignorant of and recently revealed itself as an eating disorder I have had for 16 years. I should make clear, your grandkids NEVER go to bed hungry but the same cannot and has not been able to be said about your daughter. I am always struggling with finances, even keeping my bills as low as possible. But tonight when I put the kids to bed, I came down and for about the billionth time made a pasta dish for dinner, wishing it was anything else and then the tears began to fall. In a few days, I will be 32 and though I am actually ok that I may not ever meet someone to share my life with, I at least always thought by the time I hit 32 I would have my own house and be able to afford enough groceries that I didn't have to ration my own meals. I would never take food out of the kids mouth, even if that does often mean not eating myself or living off toast and fruit and tea. The past few weeks have been unbearably painful as I not only was diagnosed with an eating disorder, but also set out to conquer it quickly. I was doing so good up until the past few days. I have no money for rent let alone the gas to even go to the grocery store and buy more food. Every morning when I take the kids to school, I watch my gas gauge, like it's a nervous tick and I pray that I make it back to pick them up later and don't run out of gas. Tonight, was just such a night. I am not sure if it's my impending birthday or if I am just feeling extra emotional tonight. But I started to cry in the kitchen, wishing so badly I had a nice house of my own and money in the bank that I would never have to skip a meal for the rest of my life. I have never wanted to tell you this, because I know you would worry and stress out and become way too overprotective constantly asking if I am eating, which would honestly stress me out so much I wouldn't be ABLE to eat. But I also can't tell you or dad this, because you guys are supposed to be retired right now. You aren't supposed to be struggling to pay your own bills at your age. You should be living a good, happy life right now and I know adding my own problems on your plate would become a heavy burden. Take it from me, this is not a burden I would wish anyone to carry. It is a heavy burden with a high price. But very few people in my life even have the knowledge of my eating disorder- and those who do were the ones involved in diagnosing me. I have wanted so badly to tell you, to cry and have you tell me that everything is ok and that I would never have to be hungry again. But I can't. I know that all I would be doing is placing the burden on your shoulders instead and I love you so much Mom. You are my greatest comfort and my best friend. I would never want to do anything to hurt you or stress you out. But tonight, mom I wish so badly that you knew so that you could hold me because I don't care if I am in my 30's. I need my mom tonight to help me through this and I need help carrying this burden. It's too hard to do alone. I am so sorry I haven't told you this yet. I know someday this is something I will share with you. I love you so much mom! You are my everything.
By marion scott2 years ago in Confessions
To The Girl I used to Be
Dear seventeen-year-old me, I want to tell you how much I loved you. Now as a thirty-two-year-old trans-man, I love you more than you think people did. And believe me sweetheart, lots of people love you. Your Mom loves you so much. Grandma and Grandpa love you. Trevor loves you in his own annoying sort of way.
By Raphael Fontenelle5 days ago in Confessions
"Big Eye Lashes"
As a child, I was always fascinated by my mother's makeup routine. She'd spend hours in front of the mirror, carefully applying foundation, blush, and mascara. But it was her eyelashes that truly captivated me. Long, luscious, and dramatic, they framed her eyes like a work of art.
By Isra Saleem5 days ago in Confessions
Six Feet Under
Buried alive. What a horrible way to go. Yazz lay there, in her own thoughts. What else could she do? She was hungry, thirsty, tired, mentally, and physically exhausted, and more than anything, she was bored. She hoped she would die of boredom before anything else, anything else would've been more painful. Like many people had, she and her friends had talked about what they reckon the worst ways to die were, it was a morbid subject, but it came up every now and again. Yazz had always been one to argue her point on drowning, others had mentioned burning alive, slowly and painfully bleeding to death, hung drawn and quartered, and being starved to death. It was strange that none of them had considered being buried alive, it had never come up. But now, she was thinking back to those conversations her and her friends had had, how could they have not thought about it? It took a lot longer than the others, you were completely confined, you couldn't move or do anything, you just had to wait, until your body was physically unable to support a life system anymore, which could take up to four days. Four! By far the longest out of all of them. She recounted some of these conversations just to try and pass the time, anything to pass the time. It was difficult to know how much time had passed since she had been underground, it was difficult to know anything. There were many things that Yazz didn't know, she didn't know where she was, she didn't know how she'd got into the coffin, she'd just woken up there. Yazz also didn't know what time it was, or even what day it was, she guessed at Tuesday, it was Sunday evening when she'd been buried alive, intentionally, and although it had felt like weeks had passed, she was still alive, which means she hadn't died from dehydration, and therefore it couldn't have been more than four days.
By Liam Storm6 days ago in Fiction
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.