Headshot_soft.jpg
 

My earliest memories of what it means to be a woman involve watching in amazement while my own mother carried my little sister, and as many other things as her 5’ frame would allow, from our car to the door of our apartment, without dropping a thing. She managed to fish her keys out and unlock the door, my little sister never woke up. I can vividly remember thinking, “Only Mommies can carry that much stuff.” That image stuck.

Over the last 39 years I’ve observed that most women, when asked to describe themselves or to declare who they are, will tell you one of a couple things: Who they love or who they serve. And, while most of my life I would not have been an exception at all, I have spent the last decade (give or take a few years) working really hard to figure out the real answer to the question, “Who am I?”  The nuggets I have gathered about myself that I can declare as true are pretty simple.

I love hard, think deep, and find healing in doing the work of learning to laugh at myself but I love me a good ugly cry {Read: Most of the time I take myself way too seriously.}

In 2015, I was (finally) diagnosed with ADD. All of the sudden so many things fell into place. Tangents that include lots of extra details are my favorite/my productivity nemesis. At my core, I am a creative. I hardly ever think in a straight line, I am super curious, and love learning new things. I’m process oriented; the journey is as valuable to me as the arrival. However, coming of age in an environment and sub-culture of suburban lower-middle class performance-oriented conservativism, I learned to stifle that curiosity and process. Results, preferably the best ones possible, were where praise and rewards were given.

I have questions. All kinds of questions. I love this crazy ride of life where I get to seek out the answers in relationship with people I love. I turn 40 next year, and I am looking forward to the next decade with all kinds of excitement. Best of all, at this point, I’ve journeyed the road of life long enough that I am completely okay to sit with the questions without demanding answers. The answers will come. Or maybe they won’t. Either way, it’s one hell of a ride.