If I had to describe myself I'd say 5 ft 7 ish, blue/green eyes, dark red hair, pale skin, pierced, tattooed, dowdy, aged, fat and ugly.
The next task was even harder; to look at my inner reflection. The 'Me'. My inner reflection is crippled by mental illness. I used to be lots of things. I had infinite likes and dislikes. I could inspire and be inspired. I was opinionated and present. I could lead. I was alive. I had a look. I could be vibrant, quirky, bubbly, intense and yes.... fucking annoying. But I was someone (at times it felt like I was several someones) I was something.
Now? I'm nobody. I'm nothing.
It's not an emo thing. It's an empty thing.
I rarely leave the house. I don't speak to anyone. I have no hobbies or interests anymore. The few friends I have, live in my computer. I rarely wear makeup. I often forget to brush my hair. I have only a handful of clothes; they're bland. I have to concentrate to remember to talk or move or even just to be. I'm insular, anxious, sad, angry, lonely boring, numb and empty. I enjoy very few things other than The Spawn.
I can't define myself because there's not enough me to define.
I worry that my kids deserve better. That they deserve more. That they'll resent me for hardly going out. For not being interesting or funny or beautiful. For failing at Pinterest.
So I asked them to describe me. And they did.
Kids are brutal. And honest. I expected them to say that I'm fat, cross, sad, boring and never go anywhere or do anything with them.
Never assume how others see you. Don't let who and what you think you are define how you think others see you. They have their own eyes and minds.
Take a walk outside your mind.
You only have one life. It's wasted if you live it inside yourself.
We are our own prison.
I'm Mamaundone, I have okay knees, awesome kids and my story isn't over yet .
There's a lot of blank pages to fill.
Look in a mirror today. Tell me:
* One part of your body you like
* Something about your face you like
* Three positive things about your personality.