Her

There are times when I get stuck in my head.  Sometimes it’s only for a moment.  Other times is lasts for a day or a week or more.  Thoughts swarm. Questions invade. Doubts overwhelm.  For some reason, I become immobilized.  What are you doing?  Who are you fooling?  I type, delete.  Type, delete. I walk away and go about my business.

I reassess. 

I compare my words to hers.  My pictures to hers.  My mothering to hers.  My story to hers.  My self to her.

Her. 

Who is she?  Who is this person that trips me up without a physical presence in my path?  Who is she that steals my confidence?  This person who sucks the very life out of me and replaces it with a tiny shell of a person who is lost and afraid.  Who is she? 

She is everyone. 

The writer who who weaves together beautiful words that moves people.  The photographer who knows her craft.  The Mama who never loses her temper and has energy and creativity flowing out of every pore.  The one who has found her passion and is never thrown off course.  You know the one I’m talking about. . . the one who has it all together. 

That girl?  She messes me up. 

Oh, and that girl?  She doesn’t exist. 

My rational mind knows this.  The common sense part of me is fully aware of the fact that I created her.  But there is another part of me.  The hot-mess-tupperware-buring-forgot-to-return-library-books-haven’t-removed-newborn-clothes-from-Meadow’s-closet-dirty-windowed-dusty-end-tables-serving-hot-dogs-for-dinner-what-day-is-it?-lost-my-wedding-rings-again(to name a few) part of me. . . that part is certain that everyone else has it all together while I’m just trying to remember to make sure that the kids have two socks on their feet.  (They prefer one.) 

I would like to tell you that starting today, I am no longer going to do this.  I am no longer going to assume that you have it all together while my life is going to “hell in a hand basket”.  I would like to say (and wouldn’t you be thrilled, Chad?) that I can change this part of me and from this day forward, I will have more grace for my lack of grace.  That today will be the day I stop comparing who I am to Her.   Chances are, though, this will be a part of my journey.  This comparing my writing, my blogging, my mothering, my photography, my self to the imagined “Her” that is perfect in everything she does. 

Truth is I am a hot-mess person in process.  And while I haven’t arrived, I know that I’m not where I used to be.  And maybe that’s worth something? 

So, I write it here simply because when I write–things become more clear. Things like. . . what is really important. . .

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I wrote the above on Monday morning, leaving the rest to complete later.  Now, it is Monday evening, darkness has fallen, three children are tucked into bed and I’ve come to complete my thoughts.  My original plan was to quickly wrap this up and declare myself a work in progress who is not “there” but headed “there”.  However, as I spent the afternoon with my girls coloring on the driveway with chalk, meandering around our neighborhood with two girls in a red wagon, and exploring nature behind our house, I found my thoughts wandering back to “her”.  

Her. 

You see, I don’t want my girls to be quite so familiar with Her.  As I watched Chanelle and Meadow today it was clear that they have no idea who She is and I wonder, do they have to meet Her?

Do they have to meet the Her who says you’re not good enough? She that tells them you’re less than?  The Her that says. . .  you’re not okay? 

I can’t believe that introduction is a rite of passage. But what I do believe is that my role is invaluable.  I have to do everything I can not to invite Her into our home.  Into my life.  Into their life. 

What does that mean?  Perhaps that means I declare a war on Her.  Perhaps I really do offer that grace to myself.  Perhaps I declare that it’s okay not to be like Her, or Her, or Her. . .

Perhaps what matters most is that I’m okay just being Me. 

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“To be nobody but yourself in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody else means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight; and never stop fighting.”

~ e.e. cummings