Awareness

I am at this stage in life where I am struggling to define who, and what for that matter, I am. I know I am all the basic things that you think of when asked to define yourself. I am a daughter of Shirley and James, I am the mother of Scarlett and Noah, I am the sister of Michael, I am the girlfriend to Tripp, and a friend to many. The list goes on. Those only define my relationships though, not ME. I know I can define myself by what I look like. I am short at only five foot tall. I have dyed red hair although my natural color is black as the night. Most people would call my eyes brown but, in the light, they are mostly green. I have a good bit of random tattoos that go from the side of my head to my ankles. I have scars, so many scars. I could go on describing every inch of me in detail, but that is not really me. At one point I was six pounds, with fresh skin and dark hair and eyes and that was still me. My body is everchanging, growing, expanding (sometimes in ways I don’t care for), taking beatings and eventually breaking. It does not define me.

I could use my personality to define myself. I am selfless, always giving until I am left so depleted, I have nothing left for myself. I am empathetic, sometimes feeling the emotions of others stronger than I feel my own. I am protective of those I love and especially of my children. I am afraid often, mostly of everything I love being taken away from me, but sometimes even of my own shadow. All these personality traits though change year to year. When I was in active addiction, I was not selfless, I was selfishly chasing this high day after day for years. I was not empathetic; my vision was so narrow I felt only my own never ceasing need. I lacked any protective instinct even for my own children, some days seeing them only as an inconvenience. I was fearless, mostly because I stayed in a constant state of numbness. I know some addicts like to separate themselves from their addiction once they enter recovery and say that during those times, they were not themselves, and while yes, I probably wouldn’t have acted that way if I was not on drugs, it was still me. I can go about life pretending some monster took me over for a time, but that is not the case. The drugs brought out a side of me that was dark, but it was still me. My personality cannot be me because just like the seasons, it is constantly changing and cycling through.

To answer the question of who I am without using other people, or the parts of me that change is like trying to catch a cloud. The only part of me that remains is this awareness that I am here.

I am that fear that grips in the middle of the night when you’re not sure you’re alone.

I am the air as it vibrates producing the sound of a baby’s first cry.

I am the one that watches the sun as it paints the sky pink in the morning and orange in the evening.

I am the intense pain of labor and the immediate relief of new motherhood.

I am the lack of air in your lungs and the sinking in your gut when you know you won’t ever see someone again.

I am the first moment when everything is new and painfully bright, but I am also the last moment when it is dark, and time has run out and you face the unknown.

I continue on.

Everchanging, ever the same.

Awareness.