who i am.

Have you ever been lost in yourself? You know like you know who you are, but you don’t?

It’s a weird experience to say the least.

I mean I wake up every morning and I fill my life with things that I convince myself express who I am. I know what clothes I like. I love dresses. and jeans. and high heels. And I love trying on a few outfits before I leave my house because I need to look just right. And then I love to sit in front on my mirror. Put on make-up. I definitely must have blush, mascara and a nice hint of color on my lips. Then I move to my hair. In the mornings it’s usually up in a high bun and then it’s not easy to bring it down to look normal. But it usually just does its bouncy thing. And before I approve, the look has to come together with necklace and bracelets and all. And then I smile. But sometimes I don’t. Because I don’t see what I think I need to show. Because I want to be the one to be liked. I want to be the one to be loved. And this has been my disorder for the last years.

I’ve never spoken love on this blog. And it’s basically because I can’t do it. Not because I have not loved. But because love has left me broken. And it left me broken because love’s time has not yet come to my life. I’ve wrongly gave my heart away without being asked for it or without it being well received or wanted. and well, I’m still putting the pieces back together.

I fought so hard all this time to be what I thought would get my heart purchased, what would seal the deal. as if my heart and soul were but a car and I was a car salesman. during this whole time I forgot about me. I forgot that the beauty in me was priceless and already paid for. And in that I sold myself short. I sold my heart and love for what I hoped and what I perceived. I never knew I could be so blind and so lost within myself.

Today when I asked myself the question of who I am, I’m not all too certain because for so long I defined myself the girl who needed to be another girl to obtain the love that she so dearly wanted. And that’s no fun, heck; it’s the most stressful thing in life.

Today, I say, I am a daughter of Christ, but I recognize that I haven’t lived up to that title. I haven’t valued myself as he does. I haven’t trusted him enough with who he made me to be. And I am actually much more fun than I give myself credit. But bitterness has clouded that. sadness has tainted that. and my cover-up has fooled only me. and im distressed.

There’s more to this girl that sings. To this woman with bouncy hair. Behind it all, there’s a woman of passion and of deep cares. i’m full of compassion, love and tender kindness. I love to write poems and sing love songs. I like to drink coffee and eat desserts. I love to cook (although I don’t do it often) and share what I eat. im really nice, often too nice, and stepped over. I lack a backbone and get hurt. I am afraid to fight back sometimes but I do what I can. I sing and I love it, but I am yet even more talented in so many ways. I dance, I act, I clean and hop.  Ive battled with weight but im doing just fine. I can’t wait to be wed and be a housewive. You know, im real. Human. Imperfect. And well those imperfections are ok. those imperfections define me. and I am afraid of them. I’ve let them rule me simply because I was afraid they’d get in the way, and take me down or take me away from what I thought I deserved. But how could I deserve what I selfishly wanted. Cause that love was love but love that would only benefit me and my desire to get my way. I am control freak. My way or my way. And I get bratty when I don’t get my way.

Sigh.

There’s freedom in writing this out. Writing is freedom. To me at least. I am always more open, more real in my writing. It really speaks volumes of me and the pretty person I am inside. And so I wanted to write and through it discover the flaws, the real cover-up, the real me in the cobwebs.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t fake it, I am genuine, but inside I battled trying to be someone else. To my blog I’ve been more real than to the world. Blogging is freedom. But I want to live freely indeed. Unafraid of who I am. Unafraid to be loved with flaws and all. I’ve had many battles, but I’ve also had victories. Victories outweigh the bad. But I’ve struggled with letting god. With moving on. I struggle with trusting the mighty one who created me.

I like to be called jen or Jennifer. But everyone calls me jenny. This makes me wonder, do they really know who I am? They should know, but I need to give them the chance. I need to give myself a chance to be free. And then im sure love’s time will come for me because it’s perfect in all ways. God sent. God willed and planned. And that I want. But first, I want to be who I am in him. I have a long way because first I need to accept that who I was is no longer who I am.