Who am I, even?

 



I quit my job this past December, because we had an opportunity for me to stay home and take care of house/home/the kids/all that jazz.  It's funny--I never saw myself in this position.  In fact, I told B when we got married that I wasn't a "stay-at-home-mom" type.  I went to college to have a career and to be independent, and whenever we had kids, I would not quit my job and stay home.

There was so much I had yet to learn and understand about everything.



Having been home for just six months now, I can see how afraid I was.

Afraid of failing, afraid of succeeding, afraid of not knowing what the future would bring.

Afraid that my kids would send me packing, back to my 9-to-5, just like my sister and I tried to do to my mother.  (Sorry, mom.)

Afraid that I would lose myself, or find someone else inside of me, and lose the friends I had made at work.

Afraid that I would not make any new friends at all.

Afraid that I would not be able to handle this new way of life, and that I would give everything I had to something that would ultimately fail.

Afraid, deep down, that I am not enough.

Handing over my fears is a daily process;  it's not something I can check off my lifelong bucket list.  It's not something I pray about once, tossing up to God like a stone into the ocean, hoping for the best.

So, here I go--I'm giving it everything, and learning to lean into my failures and successes.  Cheering for the good days, and taking deep breaths on the days that leave me feeling empty.  All the while, I am grateful to be here with my loves each day.