Who am I?

Self esteem issues... we all have them or have struggled with them at some point in our lives. It is always hopeful that most people will grow out of it, before it consumes their whole life.

I have been battling with my own set self-esteem issues for years. I learned to hide behind my weight and use shyness as a security. I didn't want to be noticed. I figured if I wasn't seen, then people wouldn't notice me fail. They couldn't get close or cause me pain. The couldn't leave me, if I left them first.

It has been a long hard battle, one which has left me with many scars! The purpose in writing all this in today's entry, is because God has been pushing me more and more lately to think about my life and to finally understand why He made me who I am.

It all begins with one seriously jacked-up childhood. I honestly don't even remember very much of it... it's all locked away in there somewhere. What I really remember the most, is how I felt. While I can't remember who, what or where in great detail, I can remember every feeling as if it were just yesterday.

I remember the sadness I felt on the day that I realized that my dad had left us stranded in an unfamiliar city, and he wasn't coming back for us. I can remember the pain I felt for my mother, as I watched her cry when she thought no one was watching... when she was worried about where we were going to go and how we were going to eat. I can remember the anger I felt at my father and his new girlfriend, who just so happened to have been my uncle's wife... and conveniently enough my mother's best friend. I can remember the anger I felt at my grandparents and great grandparents for their inability to teach their children responsiblity and the importance of getting an education. I remember being frustrated with a society that says it is about freedom and its people, but it sits by as its people sleep in their cars and on streets with nothing to eat and no where to go. I can remember moving so many times, that I couldn't even begin to count them all on my fingers and toes. I can remember living with family, friends and even a few strangers... sleeping on different couches and floors and even in a car in front of my own aunt's house. I can remember hearing people talk about how ashamed my mother should be that she couldn't take care of us, but never did I hear them say that my father should be ashamed for not being the man and father that he should be. I can remember standing in bread lines and food lines, christmas baskets from the empty stocking fund, christmas gifts from the angel tree and the curfew in the homeless shelter. I can remember shopping for school clothes in the thrift stores. I can remember my mother working two and three jobs just to barely pay the bills. I can remember biscuit bread, powdermilk gravy and boiled potatoes when there was no money for food. I can remember the pain I felt when I watched my sister go without, and the determination that I felt when I said that she would never have to struggle again. I can remember living in the projects, playing in fields where they would often find dead bodies and dirty drug needles. I can remember the drug dealers and the gang shootings and hiding in the closet in the middle of the night... when the police would raid our house. I remember having the apartment being broken into and being robbed by my own brother. I can remember the last day I saw my brother outside of jail, when I found him laying in a car with a gun in is hand and his finger on the trigger as he slept. I can remember praying at that moment that God would take him to jail before he got killed or one of us killed. I can remember praying a thankful prayer when they hauled him off in a police car and two weeks later hearing the sentence of 16 years. Honestly, I could do on forever listing the all the feelings and experiences... but that wasn't really even the point in writing all of this.

I realize that at one point in time, everything I just typed would have only brought up more pain and sadness for me. I'm not really sure that I could have even written this a couple of years ago. The purpose of this entry was not to play a sympathy card or to vent anger and grief... really... I wanted to write it to say that I am truly thankful for each and every one of those feelings and memories. I can't say that I would have said that then or even a year ago, but today, I can say those things openly and proudly. I can say them out loud, because they are exactly why I am who I am. I grew up very poor, surrounded by one seriously dysfunctional family. The awesome thing is, I can look at all these experiences and know that God has blessed me greatly. I know that God found me through all of those experiences and that I would definitely not be half the strong Christian woman that I am today. I love who I am and where I came from. I think in some way, I had to see a glimpse of what Hell is like (at least on earth), so that I could be different and be strong enough to change. I know that I can make it through any challenge that life throws my way. I can be proud that I have worked hard for everything single thing I have and for the accomplishments I have made. The most important thing is that all that hard work helped to change the future of the family that comes after me. I am proud to say that the buck stops here. I know that one day my children will be taught responsibility and will understand the importance of an education. I can't change the life of those who came before me, but I can say that things will be different for those who come after me!

Thank you God for making me who I am today and for taking me the path that you did. As painful as it was to get where I am today, I am proud of who I am and where I came from!