International Women's Day... er... a Bit Late

Here's the thing... it has taken me a *really* long time to feel comfortable in my own skin. And if I'm being honest, I'm not totally sure I could say I actually am comfortable all the time, but I feel like I'm getting better. 

I grew up thinking I was never enough. Never smart enough, pretty enough, fit enough, athletic enough, anything enough. I was too loud as a kid. I talked too fast. I had too much energy, and I felt like I was constantly a burden. I wanted to share my ideas with everyone, and I felt like people were constantly annoyed with me. Why - I wasn't sure. 

In hindsight after many years as an educator, I can say with confidence that I most likely suffered from an undiagnosed case of ADHD. I've filled out enough of the teacher questionnaires for students being tested for it to recognize oh my... that was me. The hyper-focus was real, as was the struggle to pay attention. I couldn't help but to notice everything going on around me all of the time. The tag on the back of my shirt. The sock seam on my toe. The sniffling of my classmate four seats away. The clock ticking. The stench of sweaty boy next to me mixed with the musky stink of the girl's shoes sitting in front of me. And oh wait... what was I working on? Oh yes... this long division test. Why am I always the last one to turn these in? I always get the highest scores. Is everyone else rushing, or am I just slow? 

And then there was the anxiety. The massive, horrible, skin-crawling monster that plagued me during my insomniac nights and every time I felt overwhelmed, which was all the freaking time. I had teachers politely tell my parents to get me tested. I, of course, was raised by incredible humans who fed me all organic vegetables, never kept junk food or soda in the house, and who bought into the conspiracy theory that Ritalin was a drug used to control children (props to my sister, who was the one who recognized that fear for what it was - a conspiracy theory). For the record, I know plenty of adults and children who take medication for ADHD whose lives are immeasurably better as a result of it. My life probably would have been better for it as well, but we'll never know. 

So life went on, and I became an adult. An adult who never understood her place in the world. Wife. Mom. Teacher. Dancer. Dance Teacher. Yoga girl. RYT-200. Runner girl. Paralegal. Educator. Rock Climber. Martial Artist. Triathlete. Ultramarathoner. Traveler. Adventure addict. Aspiring badass.

So many labels. So much heartache. I didn't have a clue who I was.

The truth is that I just couldn't figured out who I wanted to be, and the problem was that I was exactly who I needed to be and I just couldn't accept it. All of it. I am all of it, and I accept that now.

As an adult, I've realized I constantly have to stop myself from apologizing - for taking up space, for having an opinion, for being human. But here's the thing - I am allowed to exist, to take up space, to post the photo of myself showcasing something that is actually far more vulnerable than people realize. 

When I see a photo of myself, I cringe and pick it apart. Do my pale eyes look creepy? Are those wrinkles on my exhausted, sleep-deprived face? Is my yoga posture less than perfect (it always is - and thank goodness for that or I would have no room for growth, which I never want to lose)? Is my PR that I'm proud of good enough to share? I'm not a 5.12 climber, so am I allowed to post that I'm proud of my accomplishment of sending the 5.11 route I've been working on?

But here's the thing... I have two daughters, and I want them to never feel like they have to apologize for existing in this world. I never want them to live with the self doubt and scrutiny that I've struggled with. When they see a photo of themselves, I want them to see themselves the way I see them - strong, intelligent, kind, funny, and beautiful in all of their incredible imperfection. If I don't lead by example, how will they learn to be those powerful, confident humans? 

So here I am, putting it all out there. My imperfection. My humanness. For my daughters. For you. For myself.

Maybe it'll help. Maybe putting myself out there will show my daughters that it's okay to simply BE... and to be proud of who they are.

It took me most of my life to figure this out, but I'm finally okay with me. In fact, I rather like who I've become.