On Day Thirty
When you meet someone new, you generally meet the best version of that person. Once you actually get to know them, you see who they really are. I’ve mentioned my own dual personalities in a previous post. But to tell you who I am? Well, that’s a bit tough.
- I’m a daughter
- I’m a sister
- I’m a wife
- I’m a friend
- I’m an animal caregiver
- I’m a writer
- I’m an employee
- I’m a co-worker
As for what I really am… I’m just a girl, trying to get by, working an average job, living in an average house, in an average neighborhood. I’m flawed, I’m fickle, I’m stubborn, I’m selfish, I’m a procrastinator, I’m frail, I’m easy-going, I’m shy, I’m a bitch. This is starting to sound like that Meredith Brooks song. I’m a book lover, I’m a story-teller. I’m a nautical nerd (I love shipwreck stories involving the Great Lakes.) I’m a weather junkie, I’m a lover, not a fighter, but I will cut a bitch if I have to. I have no patience, I’m a bottler, I’m anxiety ridden, I’m numb to certain emotions for a time, until I burst like a water balloon. I’m complicated, I’m simple, I’m easily annoyed, I’m sarcastic, I’m catty. I’m a perfectionist at work, I’m laid-back at home, I’m disorganized. I’m forgetful, I’m not perfect, and I’m okay with that.
I think this is a fair enough assessment of who I am. I’m sure I’ve missed something, as I am forgetful after all. I’m not always pleasant, but I’m decent, and for some reason, the few people in my life actually want to stick around me despite my flaws. That makes them bad ass in my book.
And who are you?