losing touch

Let me paint you a picture:

Cool mountain air whispers across my face as the sun settles behind the distant peaks. Birds call out their goodnight songs, and the flames of the fire mesmerize me with their seductive dance. The warmth just starting to feel welcoming as the heat of the day wears off. I take a deep breath, the first in what feels like days. I glance into the darkening woods beyond the yard and wonder at what animals might be waking to begin their nightly hunt for food. The mountains are working their magic. I can feel my soul begin to settle in for the renewing only a quiet, fireside night can do. 

Now let's flash back a little over 24 hours ago:

If you would have seen me you would've thought maybe I was quiet because of a long day of 4th of July traditions. You would have probably heard a sigh of exasperation directed towards overly tired children using up their last leg of energy (theirs and mine). You would have probably seen a smile or two, and maybe heard some obligatory small talk. 

What you wouldn't have seen is how hard I was fighting to keep myself from falling apart. You wouldn't have known how tight my heart felt in my chest or known about the burn of tears right behind my eyes. I couldn't wait for the day to be over. I couldn't wait to escape the people, my family, just to try to breathe. 

I feel like I've lost touch with who I am....or who I thought I was. Maybe I got caught up in an image I thought I wanted to be, or an image I thought was expected of me. I stopped fighting for my happy and now I don't feel sure of what that is anymore. I think it would be easy for me to put the blame on social media, outside standards, other people, long days of mothering...but the truth is I allowed all of that noise to take over. 

You might not know this about me, but behind the pretty pictures I post, hides an insecure woman, who has let fear and social anxiety call the shots. It's not pretty. It's isolating and lonely. I more often than not avoid situations that I know will make me feel uncomfortable. I rarely try new things and I make excuses for not following my dreams. I recently finished reading Hannah Brencher's book Come Matter Here and first off go buy it and read it. I'll even lend it to you if you don't mind a book that has underlines every where.  I was sad when it ended. In fact, I forced myself to slow down while I read it; to really take it in. I felt like I was sitting with a friend in a coffee shop being confided in. I loved it. Her words were so relevant to me, so eye-opening. Sometimes I felt gut-punched with conviction by them. 

I might struggle to see my strengths and I may doubt that I have a calling, but I know that I have something to offer someone. I might have lost sight of what really matters in life and what things truly bring me joy but I don't have to wallow and continue to feel alone. Her book definitely helped me to recognize how much I let fear run things and I'm so over it. Of course I will have weak moments, and I will falter. I won't change over night but I will try to be more aware of when it starts to happen. I have goals and dreams and I'm ready to start pursing them instead of making excuses. I love being a mother and I love being a wife, but I know there is more for me. I know that the more I nurture myself and my calling the better mother, wife and friend I'll be. 

I am making a small goal for myself, because I think small goals make the big ones more attainable. I'm starting with vulnerability. Honest answers that are usually covered with genial pleasantries. Maybe on the 4th, I should've shown my pain instead of hiding it with quiet smiles. Had I gone out on a limb, and shown some vulnerability, I wouldn't have had to struggle alone. And maybe, just maybe, I could have had help turning my mood around and actually enjoyed myself and my family.