[EXCERPT FROM ESSAY: TODAY I ASKED MYSELF MY STORY] [I AM A WRITER, NOT A DOCTOR. CLICK TO VIEW MEDICAL DISCLAIMER]
As of this writing, it is now thirteen whole years since I lost my dad. That makes me thirty-one now, an age I’d gladly deny if the lines on my forehead and the two children who follow me around and call me “mom” didn’t immediately give me away.
My thirties have brought about a new sense of calm—an acknowledgment and understanding that rebuilding after trauma takes time and patience. How anxious was I in my twenties to answer every single question life threw at me, and how irrelevant having to label everything seems from the proximity of my thirties? To ask “who I am” is like asking me to describe a moment in time. I am a dynamic compilation of ever-changing factors—a living, breathing, evolving composition of my experiences and what I have learned. My identity is the confluence of all these things and regenerates from day to day.
Forever I felt I had to exhaust and deplete myself rowing to stay ahead of life’s current. When I finally surrendered, stopped frantically paddling towards who I thought I should be, and let the flow just take me, I realized it carried me to exactly where I am meant to be. If I could trust the current to bring me here, to these peaceful, hopeful waters, I can trust that it will not forsake me in the future.
So if you were to ask me, “who I am at this very moment,” I might tell you, I am a mother and wife, I am temporarily peaceful, I am a hopeful writer, and I am still searching for what my impact in this world will be. If you ask me what is fundamental about me, regardless of the everchanging backdrop of circumstances, I’ll tell you that I love and am loved. I am worthy, and I am hopeful.
Until tomorrow,
Tess
Click to read more of the essay Today I Asked Myself My Story.
Click to read Today I Asked Myself About Purpose.