We all have different definitions of who we are depending on what image we desire to reflect, based on our stage in life, who we are with, and where we are.
The older I get, the more clearly I see myself, strengths and weaknesses alike. I find I am accepting the real me more every day, and the facades I tried to construct, in past years, are being taken apart. No more trying to be something I am not, no more rejection of who I am, and who I was uniquely created to be.
It’s a good feeling to be more … real.
Maybe it’s my undiagnosed ADD (attention deficient disorder), repressed childhood, or simply immaturity, but I have really struggled, as an adult, with rules and appropriate behavior for certain situations. The worst of which are ProD (professional development) activities at school/work. If they are not interesting, captivating and useful, the demon within me begins to emerge, and all hell breaks loose.
I remember one in particular, when we were watching a video of a very brilliant (and monotone) woman speak about a specific way to assist students who struggle with behavior control. Unfortunately, as boring as her voice was, the excess skin under her arms was … entertaining. And she waved her arms often! So entertaining that I sent a little text to a number if my colleagues in the room, comparing the effect to that of a butterfly in flight. Well, the giggles began … I am surprised I still had a job after that ProD day!
There’s my singing … sigh.
My singing is really bad, but I love to sing. I love to sing while I’m driving, while I’m working on a project, in church. But I am always aware if people around me might hear my voice. Even my kids, when they were really little, would place a finger on my lips to shush me, while singing in church.
Then there’s my sense of humor. I think I am quite witty, humorous. According to my kids … not so much!
Then there’s my horrific grammar … Included in that my gifted-ness to create a run on sentence that could compete with that of any other person on this Earth!
Then there’s my morning coffee addiction …
And, of course, my self-diagnosed ADD.
This emerges as soon as I have more than one brain cell awake, until all of my cylinders cease to fire at night. It seems to be intensifying with each year I live … starting multiple tasks and struggling to remember what I was going to say … mid sentence … which is probably for the best, since I’d lose interest in what the other person had to say, just half way through their response.
At thirty-nine (with almost seven years experience) I can honestly say, I’m okay with the weaknesses, the struggles, the immaturity within me.
There’s room to grow … and I am fully aware of it!
itsawonderfilledlife 