You see - I was Superwoman.
I could leap tall buildings with a single bound and traverse freeways at high speeds to get to a soccer game without getting a ticket or losing a kid. I ran from one end of town to another because I was an awesome mom. I stayed up until 4 a.m. to make cupcakes so everyone would know what a perfect family we had.
I was the one to make everything better because I was so good at it. I was the strong one. I could face giants with just my slingshot and battle evil Principals to advocate for my children. I was the loyal one. I stuck it out even though the marriage had torn me to shreds and daily stole a little bit more of my soul. Because it was the right thing to do.
I earned my blackbelt in my early 40's. I was a ultra-marathon athlete (5k actually) climbing over foreboding obstacles and crawling through the mud. I was the biggest loser who lost 80 pounds in 6 months. I worked out not to get in shape, but because I didn't want to be the fat bride in the wedding pictures when that finally happened. I spend a small fortune on clothes and shoes and jewelry so I can look great for a guy because I am so afraid that he is going to see me for who I really am - a 42-year-old divorced mom with a few more stretch marks than she would like vegging in shorts and a tank top.
I am a fraud.
I am not really any of those things - strong, confident, together, Superwoman, fixed. What I am is a scared little girl that has no real idea how to make it in this world. I am fighting by instinct alone, having grown up without any guidelines as to what a normal family is. I don't know how to be a great mom while working 50 hours a week. I am afraid to write what is really on my heart because I am so scared I am going to hurt someone else's feelings - totally disregarding my own.
I am afraid.
I am still that scared little girl in St. Jerome's playground sitting on the curb afraid to talk to anyone because I am afraid that no one will really like me when they see who I really am. I am a frazzled, wannabe soccer mom who desperately wants a normal family with a dad and mom and a white picket fence, not a two bedroom apartment in the middle of 1300 other apartments that is a mess because today we had to run to karate, cub scouts, two soccer games on the other end of town, the grocery store, Wendy's drive -in, parent teacher conferences and then back to Walgreen's because the girls have a project due tomorrow and it's already way past their bedtime. So I'll drive across town to meet you not because I'm so cool but because after all of that, I didn't have time to wash the dishes or make my bed.
I am broken.
But now, being broken, all the pieces are laid out before me now like a shattered mirror. I can see every imperfection reflecting back at me. I can still see the good stuff too but I'm able to put them in perspective now. I know all of the pieces are going to be put back together as I heal. It won't be perfect. It might not even be pretty. Not all the pieces will fit just right, so there may be some extra putty holding it there. But I know God will be that putty and if I just give in a be who I am instead of who I want everyone to think I am, it will be ok. I will be ok. And now I get to start seeing just who I might be...