{"id":19,"date":"2012-07-19T16:29:00","date_gmt":"2012-07-19T16:29:00","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.patheos.com\/blogs\/permissiontolive\/2012\/07\/who-i-am\/"},"modified":"2012-08-17T11:15:17","modified_gmt":"2012-08-17T17:15:17","slug":"who-i-am","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.patheos.com\/blogs\/permissiontolive\/2012\/07\/who-i-am.html","title":{"rendered":"Who I am"},"content":{"rendered":"\n<\/head>
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\"\"<\/a>Who am I?<\/span> It\u2019s a question that I started asking in earnest only a short time ago, and it seems like an endless process. It started with trying to figure out where I felt the most like me, the most at peace, the most beautiful. Little pieces came together slowly, separating who I am from who I was told to be. Some pieces were rather easy. I knew that I loved to read good books, that I love to write, that I enjoy messing around in the kitchen. But other peices felt mysterious to me, like looking in the mirror at a stranger. <\/em><\/p>\n

Who was that person?<\/em><\/p>\n

For a long time, I believed that question was wrong. That it didn\u2019t matter who I was, it mattered who God was, and my only purpose in lifewas to serve him and love him above all else.<\/a> In my understanding, that meant being a godly wife and mother, doing anything else was much less important, or even \u201cselfish.\u201d<\/div>\n
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Even though I have 4 children aged 5 and under, and often find myself overwhelmed by the amount of needs and just how badly I want to be there for all of my children, I still have that pull to keep having babies. It\u2019s as if it will somehow make me valuable. If I am just pregnant, then even if I fail in every other area at least I\u2019d be making a baby! And yet, I value my babies too much to turn them into my perpetual security blanket. My children will never understand their value and worth if I make their existence about their mother\u2019s value and worth. So I continue my quest to learn who I am, and what makes me, me.<\/p>\n

So over a year ago<\/span>, I pulled out my old journals and read through the early entries, the ones where I dreamed of being an ice skater or a lawyer or a politician. The pages I wrote before I realized that girls weren\u2019t supposed to dream of anything but a home with a husband and babies. Were those old dreams still part of me? I didn\u2019t know anymore.<\/div>\n
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It felt so awkward to be me. I was uncomfortable in my own skin. At first it was an endless circle of doubt. Is such and such really<\/em> me? Did I really<\/em> feel that way? Did I really<\/em> want that? But as I started the simple process of actually\u00a0saying yes to things that I wanted to say yes too, and no to the things I didn\u2019t want to do, slowly I began to find peaceful moments.<\/div>\n
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They happened when I was rolling around in the grass, playing with my kids, when I pumped my legs to swing higher on the swing at the playground, my hair going crazy in the wind. The moments happened when I gave myself permission to have a style that felt comfortable for me, even if that meant wearing pants to church instead of a lady like skirt, or cutting my hair short even though \u201cit would make my face look fat\u201d. When my muscles ached, I had dirt under my nails or flour up to my elbows, I felt confident. When I had no place to go and lay in my lovers arms, I felt peace. I\u2019ve begun to believe that I don\u2019t have to be perfect, I\u00a0am good enough<\/em>.<\/a><\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

Slowly, Melissa is taking shape. When I am in the moment instead of worrying, when I am living life accepting it as is, when I am present and engaged and getting messy instead of doubtful and reserved, that\u2019s when I feel most ALIVE and beautiful.<\/p>\n

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Asking who I am is simultaneously exhilarating and exhausting<\/a>. Even though I am finally starting to have this new confidence, I have one area that still triggers that circle of doubt, (and like I said here<\/a>, I think it will get better once I\u2019ve actually taken the dive and gotten started) that would be school.<\/div>\n
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\"\"<\/a><\/div>\n

I know<\/span> I want to go to school, but for what? Do I get a GED first? Or try to make up a high school transcript to enroll in college courses? I wonder if I should get on track to study for a career like being a Doctor or a Counselor or Social Worker? I love the idea of helping people, and humanity fascinates me. Or maybe it would be better to take a bunch of random classes to figure out what floats my boat. I love to research, maybe I could be a Scientist or a Teacher.<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

My doubts about my abilities to perform well in school, and my artistic side sometimes make me wonder if I am just getting distracted by the idea of school? Maybe who I am is more of a free spirit, an Artist-Musician-Writer sort of person who never really makes any money but revels in the artistic things they love. I question my motives. Maybe I only think I am interested in school because I wasn\u2019t allowed to go and I feel like I have to prove something, except I am pretty sure that neither of those are entirely true, because the thought of not going to school makes me feel sad.<\/p>\n

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Maybe I could try a career that takes less school time and more hands on training, like a Massage therapy, that\u2019s helping people, and I could have flexible hours. Or maybe an on the job training to be a Mechanic, machines are fascinating, and I\u2019ve always wanted to know what is going on under the hood of my car.<\/p>\n

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And then there is my ongoing interest in food. The way I love serving something I\u2019ve made, how I love to invent new recipes or try new things. How even though I don\u2019t want to be clich\u00e9 and choose one of the few things I was able to try as a woman in the quiverfull patriarchal movement, I find myself watching shows from the Food network and getting completely sucked in despite myself.<\/p>\n

*Sigh*<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

Regardless<\/span>of all the questions, and the unkown future, there are two things that are becoming clear.<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n
One:\u00a0You probably can\u2019t be an Artist, Mechanic, Doctor, Teacher, Social Worker, Counselor, Coffee shop\/Bakery Owner, Writer, Chef, Massage Therapist\/Esthetician, Librarian all rolled into one.<\/div>\n

Two: As a person who used to describe herself with words like \u201cstupid,\u201d \u201clazy,\u201d\u00a0\u201chopeless\u201d and\u00a0\u201cworthless\u201d\u00a0I am finally begining to see\u00a0who I am.\u00a0I am finally learning to accept and love the things that make me, \u201cMe.\u201d<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n
I am:<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
A gentle parent<\/div>\n
A loving spouse<\/div>\n
A\u00a0feminist<\/div>\n
A writer<\/div>\n
A\u00a0sister<\/div>\n
An advocate<\/div>\n
A\u00a0researcher<\/div>\n
A community person<\/div>\n
Contemplative<\/div>\n
Queer<\/div>\n
Compassionate<\/div>\n
Creative<\/div>\n
Passionate<\/div>\n
Happy<\/div>\n<\/body><\/html>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Who am I? It\u2019s a question that I started asking in earnest only a short time ago, and it seems like an endless process. It started with trying to figure out where I felt the most like me, the most at peace, the most beautiful. Little pieces came together slowly, separating who I am from […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1145,"featured_media":455,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[20,4,24],"tags":[50],"class_list":["post-19","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-education","category-feminism","category-who-am-i","tag-gender-roles"],"yoast_head":"\nWho I am<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"Who am I? It\u2019s a question that I started asking in earnest only a short time ago, and it seems like an endless process. 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