Me

Going through all the pictures of Argentina made me remember something I’ve always known: my husband loves me completely. He took so many pictures of my face that I felt a little embarrassed. I used to love being in front of a camera, but these days I prefer being the person taking the pictures. But in Argentina, my husband also wanted to take pictures because he’s naturally gifted at photography, so I found myself being the subject—or should I say muse—of most of his pictures. 

I may forget the depth of his love from time to time, but I never take it for granted. It still makes my stomach flip flop when I walk into a room and notice him noticing me. I can’t tell you how many times I find him checking me out. To be loved, adored, wanted, needed, etc. in the ways he does for me is nothing short of magical. He sees me—the me that I am today, with hints of the me from the past. And while I’ve changed a lot, he has afforded me the space to change and has learned to love who I am today. I can without a doubt say he loves me way more than I love me. 

Who am I these days? Why do I struggle to love myself? Will I ever love myself? These are frequent questions I think of through the passing weeks. I think I know who I am. I am complicated. I’m one part conservative, two parts liberal, and what’s leftover I fall somewhere in the middle. Tim and I laugh because I often feel like the most anti-feminist feminist there ever was. I feel deeply for women—how we are treated, looked at, spoken to, paid (and perhaps more importantly not paid, etc.), so I will fight for a woman’s right to her body, her speech, her career, her family, etc. until my dying day. However, I despise all the shirts with logos such as “All my heroes are women” because I believe in men too. It’s a muddy area to navigate, but I can tell you that I have both male and female heroes.

I am a spiritual being. I think profoundly on many subjects not limited to Mormonism. Over the years, I have grown to appreciate and love many churches, their members and their beliefs. I have adopted beliefs from different churches so long as I feel they align with my own spirit. I no longer believe in checklists or stamps of approval. I believe faith and the fight to have faith will be something I will work for my whole life, but my journey may not look exactly like the person next to me in church. And that’s okay. Through adulthood and motherhood I have developed a unique relationship to deity. This relationship has allowed me to change and become who I am today. I am at peace with my Heavenly Father, and for the most part, I feel He is at peace with me. Sure, I have my things—we all have our things—but I feel Him daily now, and not usually in ways I expect to feel. I teach my kids about faith, and I base everything I teach in my Savior Jesus Christ. Nothing else really matters to me if it does not have roots in the Him. I’ve learned to unhinge parts of my testimony from false ideas or silly traditions and instead center it in what I believe is the true source of light. I only teach what I believe. I just told the leader of my congregation that I will not speak about things I do not believe in, and together I think we found a way to understand each other. It is refreshing to be exactly who I am without apologies. The only person I need to apologize to is God if I misstep, which I do, and so I am getting pretty good at saying I’m sorry. 

I am an addict. I have a body addiction. I used to have an eating disorder/binging addiction but have not engaged actively in that area in a long time. Sure there are moments when life feels out of control and I resort back to binging as a way of controlling something, but for the most part I am okay. I am not, however, okay with food. I love food so much, but I hate having it actually enter my body because then I have to think about what I need to cut out the next day or how much more I need to exercise, and it is this sickness of the mind that I cannot escape. Because I no longer binge, I find it impossible to make it through a day without exercise. I over-exercise, and I know it. It goes hand in hand with my food issues. I don’t know what to do about it, so I just keep exercising and moving my body because it’s something I can do and something I like to do. 

I am a mother. I love being a mom. But if I must be totally honest, I really only love it when things are going perfectly and everyone is happy and not fighting and not crying. I feel little to no compassion when my children cry. I realize that is an awful thing to write or admit out loud, but crying kids (and I’m talking the pathetic fake crying that is more of a thing than actual crying) make me crazy. I never have learned to have an excessive amount of patience. There are days my patience runs out before the older girls make it to school, but there are also days I make it through a whole day without losing my crap, so it’s not all a loss, right? I believe my favorite thing about motherhood is teaching my children. I don’t care if I’m teaching them to tie a shoe, teaching them church doctrine, teaching them about an artist or teaching them to write their letters, I love teaching them. I love how teaching allows me to naturally spend time with my kids. I also love reading at night with the kids. We are all reading such good series right now, that I can’t wait to visit them in their beds and get our 10 minutes/each in. Where I struggle with being a mom is mostly with all the extra stuff I have to do—you know…the house manager stuff—that takes away from actually being a mom. I don’t love making lunches, folding laundry, picking up toys, etc., but I do it because someone has to. 

I am wife who loves her husband so much that she wishes retirement was already near so we could spend our days together. He is my whole world, even though Timmy really thinks he claims that title. He makes my everyday better, and I love to love him. I only wish our days weren’t so bogged down with daily monotony. Someday bun, someday. 

I am a teacher. I teach my kids, my neighbors, my friends, my 21 five year olds, strangers, my Sunday school class, the walls, anyone that talks to me. I love to teach. I find ways to teach people every day, and teaching fulfills me. 

I am a reader. I have become the sort of reader I used to hate. I have a stack of books next to my bed that I’ve read bits and pieces of but never the whole book. It’s rare to finish a book. It takes me forever. I keep my library running with all my late fees. 

I am an athlete. I’ve become incredibly strong with weights this year, and I love pushing my body to new levels. I also love running still and live for the feeling in my lungs after a good run. 

I am a baker. With Emilie at home, I cannot keep the baked goods in stock, so I feel like I bake 2-3 different batches of cookies/brownies a week. It’s exhausting, but it has allowed me to play with and tweak different recipes, and I like leaving my own handprint on things. 

I am a friend. I’ve really struggled to make friends in Elkhart. Usually I’ve made one really good friend by this point of living somewhere, but it hasn’t been the case here. I’ve leaned on my long-distance friends more than I ever have, and I am so grateful that I have maintained connections to them over the years and distance. I feel like I might drown here without them.

I am a connector. If at the end of my life all anyone says about me is that I was a woman that wanted to bring people together and a woman of faith, then I would feel rather accomplished. I may never write a novel or travel the world or be famous or popular (nor do I aspire to be), but I do make a conscious effort to put people first daily. I try to help my kids connect with others, and I am succeeding. My kids look outward at others before they think of themselves, and it’s all I could ever ask for. 

So there you have it. I am a complicated, messy, not-always-patient, friendly, loving, teaching 36-year-old woman. I eat too many cookies. I put too many items in online carts and never buy them (I hate online shopping!). I still like taking showers in the dark. I prefer to drive in silence. I prefer music to podcasts. I prefer books to movies. I still can’t sit still though an entire movie. I sometimes get jealous (like I just did this weekend when I saw posts from my Texas friends all in Key West together and wondered why didn’t I get invited?). I sometimes swear. I am really starting to develop an adult style (thank you Matt!). I still don’t take care of myself enough. I don’t take enough breaks, or any breaks for that matter. I feel most stressed on Mondays and Tuesdays because there just isn’t time to breathe on those days, but then the rest of the week shakes itself out and feels more normal. I have a love/hate relationship with my job—I love teaching and being with the kids, but I hate that I don’t have any time to do anything after school is over. I’ve recently toyed with the idea of dying my hair rose gold but just can’t pull the trigger. I don’t understand why people pay attention to “influencers” on social media. I’m tired of the curated, fake lives. I crave realness and authenticity. I try to live as true to myself and others as I can. 

I am doing the best I can, and I am pretty proud of who I am.