Sometimes, you feel like the only one, because you are. At least, maybe, you’re the only one in the room at the time.
So, random introductory sentence. But I guess it was more for me than anyone else.
Sometimes, I feel incredibly counter-culture. I feel like I’m the new minority. And some might argue that, since I’m a woman, I am. I wouldn’t really say that though, not for that reason.
I am a mother. I am a writer. But, maybe most importantly, I’m a Christian.
I’m inconsistent. I yell. I can be oblivious. I can be intuitive and compassionate. I am strong, but I am also weak. I am beautiful, but I can also be ugly. I am sweet, but I can also be terribly unforgiving. At least for a little while.
I become offended for the underdog. I protect those I love. I hate being vulnerable, yet I crave that place where vulnerability happens. Nothing angers me more than someone treating my child unfairly, or worse, treating them as if they’re someone they aren’t.
I cannot run a marathon, nor do I want to. I cannot do a pull-up, but it’s one of my many aspirations. My writing has been rejected and my heart has been broken by that. Yet, although my broken heart wants to give up, I am still writing. And I won’t stop.
I get discouraged easily. Yet, I am so determined that you might not be able to tell. My children are the most beautiful creatures in my life, yet also the biggest challenge. I never knew how selfish I was until I became a mother.
My husband is gracious, stubborn, handsome, funny, oblivious, and so, so loyal. And he loves me with a passion that he hardly allows anyone else to experience. We have almost nothing in common, and we had less than that when we started out. But he is just what I need. He will fight for me, even when I don’t see it.
I am stubborn and prideful. I am smart and creative. I am mouthy and sweet. I have the worst self-esteem and I shouldn’t need other people’s assurance that I am, indeed, lovable. I have walls. Crumbling walls. I have scars. I have beauty, creativity, and love welling up, deep within me.
I am counter-culture, but I am also the same.
Welcome to the ramblings of a 20-something mom.