So, if you’re not an eating disorder, what are you?
C’mon, I know you can think of some things.
Well, I guess I’m a mom. And a wife.
Yes, you are, but I’m not talking about roles. I’m talking about who you are at the core. Do you understand?
Yes (but I really mean no, like, a GIANT hella no).
Why don’t you write a blog about your identity, and we’ll talk about it when you next come in?
So, I’ll do it – though I’ve attempted it before. Well, many times. See? Oh, geez! Make me stop with the links! Okay, I’m done. I swear.
So, if you actually bother to go back and read some of those links, you can see that I have very much in the past attempted to figure out who I am, what kind of stuff I’m made of. And I haven’t had much success, really.
If I'm not supposed to talk about the fact that I'm a mama, and a wife, and a daughter, and an eating disorder, blah diddy blah, then what am I supposed to say? That I'm a hot piece of woman meat? I don’t think M was going for that… Can my identity be centered on the fact I have really shiny hair? I mean, that’s all I’m coming up with. Or maybe my beautifully golden tan? I like my collar bones. HELP!!! Idon’tthinkI’msupposedtobebuildingmyidentityoutofphysicalcharacteristics! I’m an anomaly! The Briester has no identity. Ack!
Seriously. Am I supposed to list, one by one, my meager list of accomplishments? My personality traits? Am I supposed to write about my silly hopes and dreams, the fluff one fantasizes about but never dares speak aloud for fear of others shooting their flimsy, whimsical dream to the ground? Hell no. I ain’t going there.
Apparently, I’m SOL. If anyone wants to give me an identity or whatever, feel free to comment.