time to be real

I can't sit with myself. I haven't been alone ten minutes and I start compulsively cleaning. I promised myself this is exactly what I wouldn't do. This foreign concept of alone time is so unfamiliar I default into what I do when there's any sort of kid free moment.

So I forced myself to stop. To sit and open up my laptop. And even here...I sit, staring blind out the window. Words are battling in my mind. Flowing over each other, tangling, colliding. I want to speak fluidly. I want to be honest. This isn't about being a mother. This isn't about being a wife. This is about me. Plain, old, boring me. I deleted that last sentence then retyped it. Honesty here. That's the first thought when I thought of how to describe me. That is NOT how I want to describe myself. I'm not even sure why I would think of myself that way. I tend to undersell myself. Underestimate. I really want to be real here. I am constantly beating myself down. Not enough echoes through my mind. Not enough ____________ (fill in the blank here). If you've thought it about yourself I guarantee I've  thought it of me.  I can't write. I can' communicate. I can't influence. There's too many breaks. Does that mean I'm trying too hard?

I struggle with confidence. It's the single most paralyzing thing for me. I can walk into a room, and I fear that everyone is cataloguing every flaw on my face. The heaviness of my thighs. The tooth that sticks out further than the rest. Everything I berate myself about, I fear they see too. I feel exposed. I've stayed home, made excuses, because I believe all the hurtful things I say to myself. How am I supposed to raise a strong, confident daughter, when I talk myself down? How am I supposed to lead by example when I hate the face I see looking back at me? Some days I fear my husband will wake up and look at me and wonder what the hell he was thinking. When he tells me I'm beautiful I rarely believe him. I struggle with my skin more now than when I was in high school. I hide out at home because some days I feel too self conscious to be out in public. I bet if you know me you never knew that.

Admitting that makes me feel so weak and so shallow. Some days I feel like I spend more time picking apart my flaws then being present with my children. It hurts to be this honest. To even type out the things I think all too often. I have so much to be thankful for. So much. and I know this isn't something worthy to let consume me; to break me. I hide behind hair, I hide behind make-up, I hide behind the right fashion. I claim honestly and realness, but I'm a scared, insecure woman....maybe more like woman child.

I don't have it figured out. I though becoming a mother would bloom within me a new found confidence. I mother-bear don't mess with my cubs fierceness. I've found instead a world even more judgmental that's left me feeling skittish and more unsure than before. A world waiting for me to misstep, to point fingers, to put down.

I don't want to be a part of that world. I want to reach out and hold on tight to women like me. I want to raise other women up. I want to speak positivity and confidence, but how can I do that without starting with my own heart first?