Myself when I am real

I'm pretty open about things. This is no shock. But those of you who know me understand that there are things I hold close to my chest. There are things I hesitate to confess for fear of what you'll think of me. Things I hesitate to confess because of the ugly truth they reveal. And sometimes there is no point in putting your ugly out on front street. It's not a matter of keeping things a secret, it is a matter of , no--it is a matter of keeping things secret. And sometimes, the person I most want to keep things secret from is myself. (Strange, huh?)
But I'm going to share my ugly. Not because it is any of your business. Not even because it may be helpful to you in some way. But because I need to let go of it. I need to bring it out in the light, confess it, repent of it, and hopefully, turn from it. And I need this public domain to hold me accountable.

I find my identity in Henry. In being his mom.

On the surface, this seems natural. Healthy even. It is a part of my identity. But it is shameful that I place this burden on him. To derive my worth from his mood, behavior, actions, cuteness. I take great delight in myself when he clasps his hands to pray whenever someone says "Let's pray." I take pride in his laughter, because I tell you, hands down, he has the best laugh around. And for some reason, I also take pride in the fact that my son has giant feet. I mean feet so big that on a regular basis people comment on his big feet. (How I think I am even remotely responsible for this, I do not know.)

But the flip side of this is ugly. When he misbehaves, I'm more concerned about what you'll think of me as a parent than I am about the fact that my son is disobedient. And what is even more heartbreaking, is that this also causes me to constantly compare Henry to other kids. And so when he doesn't talk as much as other kids, I feel ashamed. And when he doesn't wave to everybody in the parking lot, I make excuses. Joking that he must be a snob, when really, I wonder why isn't he waving at people. And I feel embarrassed. I try to push this down, but the god awful truth is that I've allowed my identity to become so wrapped up in Henry that the only thing he can do is disappoint me. Identity giving just ain't a kids job, so how can he not fail at that? I'm setting my son up to fail. What sort of mother does this?

Henry, dear Henry. Please forgive me.
Lord, have mercy on me, a sinful mother.