I’ve never been able to answer this question with ease. I am a person, but that doesn’t describe “who” I am…it tells you “what I am.”
I don’t know who I am. I’m 33 years old and after years of activism and advocacy I honestly do not know “who” I am. I’m kind of okay with this, and kind of not.
Growing up I was convinced that by my early thirties I’d be close to death and have raised at least half a dozen children with my soul-mate turned husband. I am single, a cat and dog owner and I am in some ways my own worst nightmare.
All I’ve ever wanted to be was a successful published author. A Famous Writer. I wanted to be one of those writers that inspires people. That uses words to change the world. I have a lot of interests – I want to have my own radio show one day, I want to have children and get married and live happily ever after.
I care way more for the world than it cares for me and I’m having some severe love/hate issues with God right now. I’ll get over them I’m sure.
I’m a mess. That’s who I am. I’m a lover of words who has yet to finish a novel project and I’m going through massive writer’s block.
I can’t lie and tell you that I’m happy and go lucky and blah blah because it’s not true and I’m pretty tired of pretending that everything is okay when it’s really not.
I’m stumbling through life right now and sharing that journey with you guys, so that one day when I have anxiety ridden teens of my own I can point them to my own circle of the web and say “see? No one has it all figured out. it’s okay to feel crazy and weird and insane and emotional. Nothing wrong with it because you come by it naturally”
So that’s who I am.
Submitted for the approval of Bloggers wondering why they are, everywhere.