Who Do You Say You Are?

I've already written about this topic on my WP blog. But I wanted to come here and write something as well.  This is still "home" for me, where my blog journey began. Before I dive in though.....

Full Moon Blessings!!
We're out of the Mercury Retrograde and it's shadow phase? I think they call it.
There seems to be some talk of this moon bringing about things coming to an end, releasing, etc.
Yet I feel like I hear that every other full moon too.

I am sad.  I found out via FB that my oldest aunt passed away.  Others knew hours before I did, but no one let me know.  It was by luck I saw my cousin's post.  If anything made me feel less a part of my family, it was probably this. 
My Aunt J was my second god mother, meaning she was my sponsor at my Confirmation. It was at her house that I spent about two weeks every summer with my parents.  She is the one who taught me how to crochet.  It is from her that I get my love of crafting.  I wish I had learned more from her, especially the finer points of crochet.  I used to marvel at how she didn't even have to watch her stitches. She used to just watch TV and hook away. It was like magic.  She was 94. 

Maybe I'm over reacting. Maybe I'm being too sensitive. Maybe it's that I never felt like I was a part of the family, like I was an outsider.  I don't know.  I'm not making a stink over it or a fuss....hell I this is the first I'm even saying anything about it. I don't feel saying anything would be useful.  So I let it all go, I release it.

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Alrighty....so........that question.......

It was posed by a lovely lady named Cynthia Lee.

I saw the question come up last night in my feed. 

And it was like a light bulb. Or a slap in the face...like a "hey you! wake up!"

If you have followed along here for awhile, then you more or less know my story.

I grew being told I wasn't enough. That I was an accident and shouldn't have been born.

My father believed that my mother tried to "loose" me in her pregnancy but having

"accidents".  I've been told I'm stubborn, and I must be to some extent because I'm here, she

couldn't get rid of me if his beliefs were true.  I've been told I'm stupid and gullible. That I'm

not good enough, that no one would ever want me.

Move onto my marriage where I was also told I wasn't good enough. No one would ever want 

me. That I was crazy, lazy, and stupid. That I didn't do things the right way because they weren't

his way or how his mother did them. That everything was my fault, even when it wasn't.

So this question, to me is asking me "WHO DO I THINK I AM?"  

I have struggled with this for some time.  I always try to push to the back corner of my mind and

try to ignore it.  I don't have the confidence to answer it with conviction.

Whenever someone asks me what do you do.  I will notice myself shrinking.  I'll kind of bow my

head and look around at the ground or away from the person.  I won't make eye contact at this point.

Then in a small voice, I might say "I'm an artist" or "I'm a writer."   And immediately, I feel guilty and like I am a fraud. How dare I claim those titles?

I struggle and flounder when I call myself a survivor or try to think of myself as a warrior.

I find it near impossible to call myself an advocate or think of myself as a potential one.

I mean how many times have I been told or implied that what I went through is nothing. That

others experienced way worse than I did. Basically they fall short of saying that any of what I've

been through was any form of abuse.  I'm usually considered to be over reacting.  Making a mountain

out of a mole hill.

I feel like I have block so much out of my memory, there is so much I can't remember.  And then, there will be vivid snippets of things.  I think people think that I'm not a survivor because of the 

numerous times I went back to my physical abuser.  And people that know the not yet ex, find it 

impossible to believe that he was emotionally and psychologically abusive.  Around others, he's such a charmer.  Even when he'd make remarks to me, they laugh at it and act like it wasn't anything.

But  they had no idea what it was doing to me.  When I finally understood myself that it was abuse, I tried to open up to people I  thought I could be open with.  But my cries for help fell on deaf ears.  I got the "you made your bed, you lie in it" vibe.

In the last year, as I've gotten closer to turning 50...I feel like I am shifting.

All my life, I've been told who and what I am.  And I let that define me and be my story.

But those things aren't true. They are lies I was told.

I've been trying to find the path to what my true story is.  Who am I without what I was told I am?

All my life, I did what was expected of me.  Have a "real" job, get married, have kids, have a house.

The time in church tried to make me believe I was to be obedient and submissive.  Tried to tell me who to be friends with and who not to. What I should and should not believe.  Don't question the pastor.

I was made to feel less than because I didn't finish college.  I was made to feel less than because I enjoyed working in fast food over working in an office or even retail.

I was made to feel less than because I have dental problems and am paralyzingly terrified to get it taken care (besides being unable to even afford it).

I was made to feel less than because I didn't fix up my hair and put on make up or because I didn't dress a certain way.

I think I have finally made it to the point where I can say FUCK IT!  

No, I don't usually wear make up.  I prefer not to. But on an occasion, I'll put some on.

I'm tired of dressing how I'm supposed to or to please someone.   I like my black clothing!

I like my dark colors.  But  I also like things flow-y, almost hippy or peasant like.  I've never been 

comfortable showing off my goods so to speak.

I would rather where my hair up in a messy bun or in braids.

I'm not quite to where I can boldly speak my truth or what is on my mind.

I feel guilty whenever I do and second guess for days or weeks.  But I'm working on it.

I am working on confidently calling myself an artist, a writer, and a budding photographer.

These will take time, and hopefully eventually I will become more comfortable and confident in calling myself these things.

I often shy away from calling myself Pagan because people automatically assume you worship Satan and sacrifice things.   I've considered just telling people I'm Catholic and leaving it there.  

I'm struggling to find balance in what my path actually is.  

I'm a wanna be Druid, who has eclectic witchy leanings, who wants to worship the Goddess, but yet honor Mary and Mary Magdalene.    Talk about pot luck, eh?

I know my path and my beliefs are my own, and I owe no one any explanations. 

It's hard unlearning all the things you were ingrained with that broke you.

But I think, little by little I am evolving into the person I was meant to be.

So...in a rather shaky voice...I say that I am a survivor, a warrior, a healer, an artist, a writer, a Nature lover, a budding photographer, an aspiring Druidess, a Goddess loving worshiper, a Mary and Mary Magdalene honorer, and so much more that I have yet to discover.