And another thing… 

    



I don’t like feeling as though I must prove myself.  We all have a lens that determines how we perceive each experience, and one of the things about my lens is that I always feel as though I am being tested – for weakness and ineptitude, primarily.  My lens makes me see challenges against my person where many would see a snotty remark.  My lens makes me feel as though I must work harder, be better, and do it faster than those around me because I tend to run with an age group 8-10 years older.  Now having said that, perhaps you can understand why I feel I am constantly being weighed and measured against my “peers.”


Most people weren’t happy about my marriage.  The most common bet was that it would last between 1 and 2 years.  We’ve been happily married for 4, yet I still feel as though we must prove how happy we are – how well matched, how adept we’ve grown at managing our finances, and how we truly are loving, attentive, well-informed parents.  Most people weren’t happy about our first child, either.  Again, I feel as though I must prove how wonderful he is, how we work with him to teach him things, and help him with this sensory issues.  I feel I must prove my financial worth, though I don’t work outside the home, by explaining how much I save my family on daycare, in groceries, by shopping the sales, etc.  Every little thing is a test of my personal mettle.  How long can she last?  How long can she make that work? 


To some extent, this has both played into, and has been fed by my own stubborness.  If you tell me I can’t do something, I will do it, and do it ten times better than you expected just to spite you.  If you tell me I can’t do it, and it turns out that I can’t, I will do every thing imaginable to do something even better and pretend like I did it, again, not because I couldn’t do what you thought, but to spite you.  If you tell me I can’t do something, my resolve hardens.  I become single-minded.  I’ll do or be damned.


However, all this testing makes me weary.  Each time I walk into a room of “peers” or those who are somewhat of my “colleagues,” I take a deep breath and plunge in.  I work harder and faster because there are very few 24 year old aspiring midwives.  I feel as though my “colleagues” just think I’m a cute little novelty to be petted and ocassionally socialized with.  Amongst other mothers, I feel as though I am being looked down upon, again because of my age, and that I am being sized up.  Do my children have manners?  Do they know their numbers, letters, colors, shapes, animal sounds, and what day of the week it is?  Do they eat with their fingers?  Do they sneak out of their beds?  At what age were they potty trained?  Do they hit or bite or gouge out eyes?  Do I yell or spank or use time outs?  What do they eat?  Why are they so small?  I always feel these thoughts in the forefront of my mind and it’s eating me alive, I tell you. 


I’m not perfect.  I’d like to be the best at just one thing – raising my own children.  I’d like to be an awesome midwife, wife, friend, and leader.  I’d like to stop feeling as though I must prove myself in every situation.  I’d like to stop feeling as though everyone will turn on me without a moment’s notice because they have found a flaw.  I’d like, in each little circle – professional, familial, friendly, and organizational – to have just one person I know I can count on to always be on “my side.”  I have two people I know of…  Two.  I’m the type to need more.  I need more to remind me that I don’t have to prove anything to anyone, and if they’re asking for or implicitly asking for proof of my worth, they can kiss my bloomin’ arse!  I need to be reminded that I am a good person, and I am fallible person.  You can be both. 


I’m so very weary.  I must learn to stop seeking challenges in every word or phrase.  I must learn to accept a challenge only when one is truly offered and brush the rest aside.  I must learn that not everyone is as staunch as I.  Not everyone can back someone up just because they love them – they can back them up only if they love them and they believe the person to be in the right. 


While I am glad the world is not full of people like me, I do wish I was easier to accept.  I do wish I could make it easier for people to see me.  I do wish I didn’t have so damned many walls, or the fear that if you see what lurks behind the walls, you will run screaming in the opposite direction.


*deep breath*


I wish I wasn’t so damned weird.  Weird or not, I have proven myself…  I have proven myself to be a good person.  I have…  Haven’t I?     

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