My earlist Memory is hard to define. For I know not if it is the first thing I remember happening or if it is the first memory I had. It’s a broken memory that streams in my mind much like the remnants of a lucid dream. I feel in my heart it is real thought the fact remains that some of it may be the works of a story told to me over the years.
The memory takes place when i am 3 years old. my parents had divorced and my mother had come back by court order to get me. i went with her to visit her family in arkansas. as i tightly close my eyes i remember her beauty. still now 20 years later it haunts me. how could someone so beautiful on the outside be so ugly inside? as the car approaches it is a ranch style house painted red. there is a man in a cowboy hat leaned against the wall next to the door. my mother carries me. i only wanted to go back to my dad. i remember waking up and being on a matresse on the floor. my mother and her new guy are asleep in the room off of where i am. there is a baby in my room. is it my moms? I don’t know. i’m scared. I’m scared of where i am, who is there and of what i don’t understand. why isn’t my dad here? i feed a goat with the baby’s bottle. the goat likes it. i find it funny. my mother laughs. i think she is trully happy. that is the end of my memory.
To ask a person who they are is a question that implies more than simply a name. A single title will neither create a full sum of what defines a person. To define myself as to whom I am, verses what I am, is a vast valley of worth. In essence, I am being asked to equate my self value into what makes me the person I am. How very personal of a question this is. How little we know of ourselves may very well surprise most of us.
I am first a mother. It has taken more than giving birth to make me a mother. It is a choice I make everyday upon awakening. It is the decision that I will live out my life in such a way as to give my children a mother they can be proud of. It is the realization that my life is no longer my own and that my consequences lay in the hands of those little feet following me. This is the greatest responsibility I have ever owned but take it with great pride.
I am wife. This is not a title for my marital status. It is the definition of how I carry myself, treat my partner, and view my worth. There is a man in this world that has placed my companionship at a level worthy enough to be chosen to share his life with. There are no longer two separate lives but one entity being lived out through two people. How I present myself in character and reputation is a direct factor in how my husband will be received in society. I live my life to better and edify my husband, our family, and our character.
However, I am still an individual. There is none like me for I was created especially by the hand of God to be exactly who He wanted me to be. I have likes and dislikes, but even greater than these I have passions. The ability to be creative is a passion. It is a physical need to feed my soul that runs through my body like the warm, life giving blood in my veins. I can fulfill this need is many forms. Photography is an ability in which expresses much joy. The act of capturing, forever frozen, in time an image that is capable of reaching out and grabbing the hearts of many places a smile on my face. Music is another outlet for creativity. It inspires and uplifts the soul when blocked and dreary. Music changes the beat of my heart. It allows me to escape to another place in my mind and release the bottled up emotions, thoughts, and desires that my heart cannot alone sort.
I am actually quite simple. A classic mess is what some would deem it. I can never quite seem to piece each part of my day together and fly by curtails of my pants to accomplish the thoughts in my head. I look much like a very busy bee in the mornings and a very over worked sloth in the evenings! I feel more quarreled with myself than the world around me. In my head north is south and east is west and the only way to get to where I am going is by traveling through where I’ve been.
I loose myself in a good book or any book for that matter. The visions that fill my mind are so much more vivid from reading than any film can provide. Travel is addictive and captivating of ones person. It changes me entirely every time whether for a short distance or an entire movement. I long to travel the world and learn all the manners in which different cultures can add to the depth of my life and of my families lives. Yet, I still find the sea and the beach to be the most serene, calm, and invigorating places God ever created.
I am most comfortable in natural places of all. Being by water, in the bush, or in a simple garden will reinvent my spirit more than a building ever could. To put it plainly, I am a trapped artist. I am a girl who is more at home in jeans and a t-shirt than dressed up. I love modern life but only if I can add a vintage touch. I am by far the most pathetic hopeless romantic and an avid dreamer. I believe there is more to this life than we typically acknowledge. I am constantly learning, ever changing, and impossibly hi-strung inside. I share all of this with an unbelievable husband and an extremely hopeful child. With this I am content. This is who I am if you must be so personal.
Ok…I’m back and need to get back into the swing of things…too much in my life is passing and I’m loosing me! This is my way of knowing who I am more and more each day! I have a new writing project and should be posting from that at least twice a week!! Follow me and see what is new! Comments and opinions and notes are gladly welcome on all writing projects!