Self-realizations are like pimps, without warning they walk
up and slap you in the face as hard as they can. Because truly seeing yourself
for what and who you are can, at times, feel like you just got knocked on your
ass. You stand there dazed by the harsh light of introspection and think to
yourself, God, I’m a horrible person.
We all experience moments like that, and I am no exception.
As a smart, educated women with two beautiful, healthy
children and a successful and loving husband, I should be perfectly happy – right?
That’s where you’d be wrong. I was not happy. In fact, I was miserable.
Over the past couple of years, I have had plenty of time for
introspection, too much. With my husband’s career rapidly on the rise, I have
had to uproot our family and our lives to move four times in three years. Two
of those moves were cross-country…in the same year. We moved from the West
Coast to the East Coast and back again. With each of those moves, I have had to
give up my current job and begin again in a new state. And when you move that
many times, unemployment stays with you like the houseguest that just won’t
leave.
While I am fiercely proud of my husband’s accomplishments,
the jealousy and resentment I felt fueled my sense of failure and crippled my
self-confidence. I sacrificed everything for him to get to where he is, my
career opportunities, my education, my dreams, all so he could achieve his
dreams. As my reward I got nothing but half-smoked pipe dreams and the littered
bits of barely started careers that reminded me of all the unfinished DIY
projects in people’s garages that seemed like great ideas to begin with, but
would never be finished.
My self-realization came in a flood. Thought after thought, emotion
after emotion these realizations washed over me. Like waves on the shore, as
one ebbed away, the next crashed over me. They kept coming on me until I was
drowning in them. I was miserable and lonely, but too self-conscious to want to
be around people. I resented my husband for the choices I made to support him.
I was jealous of his overwhelming success and horribly disappointed with my own
paltry accomplishments. I blamed him for damaging my employment prospects with
constant moves and specific limitations (like no evenings or weekends or travel,
or long commutes since he may have to fly out with little notice). I measured
my sense of self-worth with my employment status and realized that, though I love my
children, being a stay-at-home mom just wasn’t enough for me. Realizations can
be a real bitch, but then again, apparently so can I.
Is that the sound of bitterness I hear? Hell yeah, that’s bitterness!
Bitterness, resentment, flattened self-esteem, all topped off with a steaming dollop
of self-loathing. Pretty, isn’t it? Self-realizations are never pretty. No one ever
wakes up one day and realize hey, I’m
kind of a wonderful person. Instead, your realizations humble you with the
knowledge that you aren’t as nice, or as smart, or as great as you thought you
were.
However, after all the shock and disappointment in myself
wore off, I began to realize that even though these realizations were a devastating
blow to my self-esteem, I actually came out better for it in the end. With my
newfound self-awareness I learned to modify my expectations and reevaluate what
I wanted from life and how I planned to go out and get it.
I confided all my dirty little realizations to my husband.
Every. Last. One. Even though it nearly killed me to admit it all, my husband
accepted my bitter confessions with all the generosity and understanding of any
truly good and loving man. He didn’t judge or quibble about my feelings,
instead he reminded me that they were my thoughts and feelings and I had every
right to have them, but that perhaps I should cut myself some slack on the
whole self-loathing part. I readily took his advice and forgave myself for
feeling the way I did and for being human. Unburdening myself was cathartic and I am a better person for it. I am
more accepting of my shortcomings and am learning (slowly, oh so very slowly)
to be patient with my future.
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