who am I? I am more than an anxious perfectionist hiding in the background of a social gathering. I am more than a the fearful and often intimidated-by-teenagers 20-something year old. I am more than the summation of my illnesses and far more than the predictors of what 18 years of abuse tell me I should be. I am not depression. I am not anxiety. I am not flash backs, nor panic attacks. I am more than the fears I have of never really belonging, of not being wanted. Am more than an orphan. I am more than the lack of grace filled responses, more than my sharp and cutting attitude, more than my defensive aggressiveness. I am more than a near doctoral level student with little hope for a regular career. I am more than overweight and sick. I am more than what my empty bank account, health history, and inability to work dictate to me. I am more than the summation of my parts.
I am a crafting enthusiast. I am a lover of veggies, of the ocean, ofIntimate relationships. I am terrible at small talk, a lover of meaningful conversation. I make the most of time. I know loss well. I love well. I care deeply. I give greatly. I sacrifice. I am a fighter, a pursuer, a good friend, a perceiver. A saver of all things, a life grower, a mentor, a recovering perfectionist, a counselor, a friend, sister, mother to many. I am a sweats kind of girl, a lover of pizza, the sun, and laughing. A lover of the arts, of dancing, of pushing myself beyond what I deemed possible. I am a dreamer and a doer. I am more than the tears I shed, more than the fears I carry, more than the otrocities I’ve witnessed. I am gentle, observant, thoughtful, and funny. I am human. A being. A soul. I am deserving. That’s who I am.