Tuesday, June 15, 2010

The Roots of my Insecurity

For the past few days I have been all over the place spiritually, emotionally and physically. I have so much going through my mind that I am trying to sort out that I couldn't possibly be able to "pen" it all down.

Today was one of those days that I felt like my children would be better off without me. Maybe I should just find a great career and let someone else take over this huge responsibility that I just don't feel like I can handle. I am way out of my league and totally in over my head.(I know, a lie straight out of hell, since I don't trust God that he has equipped me to take care of the children that he entrusted to me).
It also just so happens that I overate today, which got me to thinking. I try to picture myself in the situations when I tend to overeat. The common thread that I seem to find is that every time I overeat I am feeling very insecure. I feel that sense that I really am in over my head. It is a "I do not belong here" feeling. When that happens (quite often, I might add) I disengage, withdraw, quietly crawl into my little hole and be sure to bring a lot of food along so I can at least feel some pleasure. As a child I was a foreigner no matter where I was. And although I was born in Chile and considered myself a chilena, I just wasn't. And when I came to the States I was used to a different culture and although by all appearances I was an American, I just wasn't. I have now lived in the States far longer than I ever did in Chile, yet those roots of insecurity follow me everywhere I go, no matter where I am or what situation I am in. I constantly feel like I DO NOT belong.

It's hard. It's hard to drive to the soccer field in my little Scion and see that the rest of the vehicles in the lot are Suburbans, Odysseys, and Cadillacs, and where every member of the family has an iPhone. It's hard to walk out of my 1300 sq. ft. house and arrive at my sisters 2000+ sq. ft. house that has no dust in sight, all toys picked up and where the dishes are cleaned and the floor is swept after EVERY meal. It's hard. It's hard to sit at the dinner table with the boys (that includes my husband) and try to enjoy the topics of conversation that range anywhere from math and algebra to any and every bodily function and sound imaginable, then listen to them laugh about it. I don't belong here. It's hard to be out and about and be so obsessive about checking out every woman in sight and comparing myself to her, they are all skinnier and more beautiful that me. And don't even get me started on the gym! It's hard.
It's hard to go blog surfing and check out all of these incredible women and their incredible creations and homes. So I try, but, I don't belong here either.

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