Identity Crisis

For years, my identity was tied to the opinion of others and learned behavior. So much of who I was came from what I learned from hurt, fear, rejection, and need. I learned how to support me and my kids, often by shoplifting, I learned how to keep my head up despite every nasty negative name I was called. I learned how to deal with being ostracized by society, church and family. I learned how to hide guilt, hurt, insecurity, shame and fear. Never addressing or dealing with anything, just pushing it away as another isolated incident. What is interesting, is my entire life no matter what was said about me, no one could ever say they took care of me and mine. I’ve always kept a place to live, food and even though my kids did not have brand names, they still had, hook or crook. At the end of the day, what they did have was me, flaws and all I was present and I was the only me I knew how to be. I never felt the need to prove anything to anyone, never tried to correct the lies or even defend me. I did what I could with what I had to work with. And I was working with the shell of a woman. I made this look easy and with every fiber of my being, I made it look good. Momma always said “It aint what you got, it’s what you do with what you got”. After a while the stigma of being a pariah fell off, some of the very people who rejected me ended up needing me. The pretense was they forgot how they treated me and what they said about me (truth is they never forget what you do, they only hope you do). Nevertheless, I didn’t have the heart to treat them the same. I had my season of dysfunction, at twenty I was Buck wild, thinking I had missed something being a teen mom. Well I did, I missed being a girl falling for the cute boy on the football team, homecoming, prom and graduation. I missed being a teenager, sleepovers with my friends, doing our hair and nails, the normal things girls my age were doing. Instead, I was paying bills, changing diapers and making bottles. What I experienced from twenty to twenty-seven was self-destructive, reckless, learned behavior. I used more common sense at sixteen than I did at twenty-one, imagine that. I was twenty-seven when my love on love relationship with my mom developed, yes, we had a relationship prior but it was more out of obligation and necessity than love. It took me to start growing up mentally to see her, like really notice her, as woman and not the woman who was determined to teach me a lesson…the hard way. I finally seen her as a woman, a woman much like myself with scars and wounds, bumps and bruises. But through it all, did everything in her power to make life better for her kids and only wanted the best for them even at the expense of herself. And that was the beginning of trying to please her and get her approval. Yes, at long last I did, but lost more of myself in the process. Not because she did anything wrong, but in my search for me I took on more of her characteristics and later the comparison was made to her. Not that anything was wrong with her, on my best day I could not compare to her on her worst day. I was like her in a lot of ways, but this persona was still not me. It was then I had reached the end of me, I was so tired of being this person I didn’t know. I didn’t know exactly who I was, but one thing was certain, this was not me. You know the saying “Fake it till you make it”, well baby I put a new spin on that. I was acting like the person I was accused of being. Words, words have more power than people think, we have the power of life and death in our tongue. If you tell a person they are worthless, stupid, lazy, good for only making babies, sorry just like your daddy. I can guarantee it won’t be long before you see them display that behavior. Prior to this point, I don’t recall a time that the opinion of others didn’t matter to me. The negative remarks, the comparison made to others, all attached themselves to my identity. I was a piece of this, a piece of that but never a whole anything. I could identify with every part of the inferiority complex, but I acted out the compensatory behavior and the part that wanted to be noticed, but not for the reasons you think. My desire to be noticed was not for recognition and attention, but for love and acceptance. Being a teen mom was not as acceptable in 1978 as it is today, what was given to me as a gift from God was looked upon as a curse and I a pariah (social outcast). I thank God, the effect this had on my mental was not detrimental. I never allowed hurt to penetrate beyond that, never felt I wanted to give up on life or my babies. It did however, make me question people’s reasoning, I never understood how and why people could inflict pain especially on those they profess to love, another story. I can gladly say, the worst thing that developed from being made inferior by comparison, is I didn’t know my worth as a woman. I could have been strung out on drugs on a street corner, my babies being raised by whoever, or worse I could be have lost my life. There will always be someone thinner, prettier, better job, house and car but this does not make her a better woman than me.