Introductions can be so clunky. I smile too much. After a while of speaking to someone I meet for the first time, I realize that I am smiling to the degree that the muscles near my cheekbones hurt, and I am nodding approvingly at each sentence fragment as if I've suddenly been transformed into a creamy, velvet-covered Chihuahua bobble head. Conducting this awkward disclosure of who I am using characters on a screen seems downright suave in comparison.
I belong in too many categories, flattering and shameful, air-headed and clever, energetic and lazy, procrastinating and persevering, loving and judgmental, selfish and generous. Mom, single mom, remarried mom, wannabe mom, teacher mom. Daughter, granddaughter, sister, niece, aunt, wife, daughter-in-law, sister-in-law, ex-wife, ex-daughter-in-law, ex-sister-in-law, ex-girlfriend, ex-best friend. I am a natural defender, even of those I attack myself.
I am ruled by emotion, but admire logical, stable behavior from others. I think most people don't feel the joy that I do almost every day. I am grateful, even when bad things happen. I will be like that forever, providing that my closest loved one is safe from harm. I can completely forgive people who I believe are truly sorry. I can't think of any secrets that I keep for myself, not one. I know a lot of other people's secrets. Talking to my friends about my problems doesn't make me feel better. Spending happy time with my best girlfriends heals my soul, though.
I have no idea what kind of first impression I make; I suspect sometimes that I am a love her or hate her type. I don't handle the latter well, at all. I want to be every one's favorite fill-in-the-blank, and I work uncomfortably hard to fix it if I am not. Sometimes I fail, especially with men.
I want to take more chances. I feel like what I have to say is meaningful, even if I am the only one who reads it. I want to believe that I could write a book one day. I want to believe that I'll be thin one day. I want to feel like I have done everything that I need to do one day. One day, I want to feel like I am good enough, I've tried hard enough, and I have achieved enough. Some days, I believe. Some days they're obviously quixotic apparitions.
Let this be something that progresses me.
