Coming of Age

Today is my birthday. My 33rd birthday to be exact. Wow. 33 years. As much as I joke about getting older, I am actually super happy to be turning 33 instead of 23. Or really anything in my 20s. 

I finally feel like I am starting to get to know myself. That I am okay with the things I am not and the things that I am. I am content. Content with most everything in my life. Namely, my little precious family who makes my days worthwhile. If I think too long on that, I'll start to cry.

Because it's all just so much more than I deserve.

If you know me in "real life", you know that my self-esteem is not always the best. For whatever reason, I've dealt with a multitude of insecurities - not pretty enough, bad hair, bad skin, not skinny enough, not smart, not a good mom, not a great wife, not a good "believer". The list could go on and on. 

Slowly but surely, I am peeling away those insecurities and learning to like ME. The real ME. Not the ME that I sometimes project for the world to see.

I'm started to discover my shape. How God has shaped me for this earthly world --- and how much He loves me, all of me. I don't deserve His Grace, none of us do, but I have it anyway. And He gave me this life and for me to sit and wallow in a pit of self despair hurts Him.

I am becoming more comfortable with knowing me.

Knowing that I am not shaped in the following ways:

I stink at home decorating. It makes me anxious.
I hate "crafting" and do-it-yourself projects. Even kiddie crafts. There I said it.
I loathe pinterest because (for me) it brings on the comparisons that steal my joy.
I do not like baking. At all.
I find scrapbooking or other memory-makers boring.
I love spending time with people but overnight retreats or long days with the same people leads to massive anxiety.
My skin isn't perfect (but that's why they invented MAC and Bare Escentuals.)
I am not good at "going with the flow". Spontaneity give me hives.

What I am good at:
Loving my children and family.
Cooking - as long as I have a recipe.
Being a friend.
Showing compassion.
Seeing a page out of Pottery Barn and buying exactly those things to make my "decorating" easier.
Purchasing off of etsy for the people who are DIY inclined.
I can be funny.
I know what my passions are.
*Admiring all the people who are shaped the way that I am not*

These lists could go on and on. But you get the point. I remember my mom saying to me long ago, and maybe more recent than that,

 "One day you will look in the mirror and like what you see -- and that's a damn good feeling."

I'm almost there, Momma. I'm almost there.

I like me. I like the 33 year old me. The 23 year old version of me was self-centered, self-serving, and full of massive insecurities that threatened to paralyze my life.

I've let almost all that go. And here I stand, proud to be my age. Not afraid of growing older because I can only hope that my 43 year old version is an even better version of the 33 year old. 

And because now every birthday is one more year that I get to spend cherishing my precious children, loving my amazing husband, and striving to be a good daughter, sister, sister-in-law, and aunt. And another year to work on shedding self-doubt. One more year to grow closer in my relationship with Christ.

Thank you for another birthday. I welcome 33 with open arms. Bring it.

(As a side note: on this quiet Saturday birthday, the best possible present I could have received was hearing my children serenade me with "Happy Birthday". I could have died happy right then. 
And because I still am a little bit self-serving, I had them sing it 5 more times.)

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