Many Hats, Many Questions

As a writer, I feel compelled to share stories of life, with others. Sometimes, we don’t recognize certain struggles that we ourselves aren’t facing, and thereby we become blind to them while others are eyeballs deep. There are observations to be made, and our goal on this planet is to pass on the information we obtain through those senses. If I can help even one person see something they hadn’t noticed, I feel like I’ve made a difference.
As a woman, I feel compelled to share strength and inspiration for other women to steamroll into strength of their own. I have survived some impossible situations, and I am fortunate enough to remember how I felt during those times, as well as what I had to do to keep myself alive. Not every woman needs someone to save them, and some of them don’t need to be saved at all. They just need to hear that someone knows their voice is unique and valuable, and that they will also survive.
As a mother, I feel compelled to shield my children from the harshness of the world, and the cruel intentions of the people they will face on their own, one day. I can’t give them the false sense of security that the world will not hurt them, because it definitely will, and I prepare them for that, but there really is no way to make them cognizant of that hurt until they experience it. I don’t want to see that, and I know those days are coming soon, so in a way, I also have to shield myself. I have to show them that I stand up and stick out my chest and pull back my shoulders and throw my chin high in the face of anything that comes toward me. Whether I get hurt or not is beyond the point; defeating those unknowns brings the victorious feeling that grows into confidence that you can do it again and again.
As a partner, I feel compelled to defend and destroy. While I may not agree with everything my partner believes in, I never betray him. I am not at his side, and he is not at my side. We are equals, and we are back-to-back in this fight of life. He doesn’t need to hold my hand to feel my strength and support, he only needs to lean back and trust that I will be there. When challenge comes knocking at our door, in our most relaxed and vulnerable moments, I have my armor on for him.
As a friend, I feel compelled to be better than I actually am. I want to be able to provide better conversation, more interesting anecdotes, stronger reliability, and a willingness to listen. I’m a shoulder, an ear, a hand, a strong back, whatever a friend could need, but I want to be bigger. I want to not offend, or misinform, and I want to be able to be there when I say I will be. Sometimes, when I can’t be present, I bathe in guilt until I’m convinced I’m everyone’s worst friend. I’m sure I have friends who understand that certain things are beyond our control, but I absolutely have friends who have zero concept of “shit happens.” I want to be good enough, that there is no need to complain about me behind my back. That’s the kind of friend I want, and want to be.
Does this make me a whole person? What about the things that don’t involve other people? What about my internal struggle? What about my controversial thoughts that I don’t share? What about my conscience? What about my thoughts of the future? What will I be? What values will I inherit from my own experience, that change how I see the world? Will I like myself? Am I a friend to myself? How could I be better as a temporary vessel, as well as a better soul and mind?