Being Me

Logging on, I look for the little red numbers at the top, telling me that someone paid some attention to my life.  It's the same way I used to sit, listening to the familiar screech of the internet connection, waiting to hear the words, "You've Got Mail!"  I go to my blog to see if anyone commented on (or even read) my post.   I scan through my feed until something catches my eye.  Wow...why doesn't he say nice things like that about my family?  Why didn't I get invited on that trip?  How come I don't understand this inside joke?

I am insecure.   

It's something I never realized until I was an adult.  I skillfully covered it up with large doses of confidence, extroversion, loud laughs, and the pretense that I didn't care about popularity (puh-lease).  As I grew older, and met a  man who was kind and loving and made me feel safe, I began to evolve.  I would look at my life and think, I'm boring.  I used to be so much more fun than this.  As I grew into my "boring" life, I realized, that THIS is who I am.  I'm shy.  I like to be alone.  I don't really like to be to give hugs to everyone I meet.  I'm funny...but the kind that about 5% of humanity even understands.  I don't believe everything I've been told to believe.  I am passionate about...well, lots of things.  I try really really hard to be a good mom, because THAT is what matters to me.  Over the years, I've allowed myself to become...myself...and I'm finally comfortable being me.

But still...I have to look through my own photos periodically to remind myself that my days are just as fun, and my hair is just as cute, and my family is just as beautiful...as yours.