Dear Mom,

I have always preferred running alone. On my own quiet trail. I’ve turned down running buddies. Said no to run clubs. I say it’s because it’s my time to be by myself and clear my head. And there is truth to that. But if I’m being totally honest, it’s really because I don’t like the feeling of being the slowest runner in the pack. Of slowing others down. It makes me feel bad for them and bad for me. I don’t want to feel that way so it’s best to avoid it all together. But in doing that, I’m missing opportunities. I’m missing experiences. I’m missing connection.

Throughout my lifetime I have had a recurring theme of isolating myself in an effort to seek protection and to not let anyone down. It is probably why I struggle with vulnerability. Why I struggle with confidence. Likely why I struggle with making decisions. 

I’ve now written to you a handful of times about how I’m ready to move forward. To leave my past behind and take the necessary steps to grow. But there is still so much I must unpack. So much that I need to understand in order to change. I do wish I could simply rip the band aid and be better. Just like that. To be able to say I want to be more confident starting today and then… POOF. I’m magically stronger. Unfortunately, I don’t think it works that way. I know I need to first overcome the issues deep within me that are still holding me back.

Last week I spoke about my desire to let go of my second-guessing and obsessing and questioning every decision. As far as working on myself goes, this is at the top of my list. This is my main goal. But I realize, after a week of literally obsessing over how to stop obsessing, that I must first understand why I am this way. When did it all start?

If I were to look at my insecurities through a microscope, I think I’d see countless threads that all link up at the same source. It all points to my lack of self-esteem. My lack of belief in myself. My overarching need to please others and lose myself in the process.

Do you know when my low self-esteem began? Do you remember a shift in me at some point in my life? Or did I never have it to begin with? Is it possible I was born without confidence? Doubting every step I took. I’ve never heard any stories of me being a toddler who was unsure of myself. A baby crawling around apprehensively. I can’t think of anything that points to me being born this way.

Is there a chance that you accidentally instilled a massive sense of worry in me due to having one child who was disabled and being overcome with fear that I too would become that way? Were there moments when you stopped me as a young child from taking risks and learning from my mistakes in an effort to protect me?

Or did it all start later? When friends were introduced. When I wasn’t included. Or not invited. When I wasn’t like everyone else. A little weirder than them. With my two different colored socks to match my outfits in elementary school. 

Or was it when I began to hit puberty? When I got my first training bra in the fourth grade. I think? Or third grade? When I got my period in the 5^th grade, and everyone knew about it almost instantly. I told one friend in the bathroom at school and suddenly it spread like wildfire. I was humiliated.

I gained weight around that time. And I was rarely happy with my body again. 

Is my low self-esteem all linked to my body image issues?

Or could it be connected to my personality? Every part of me? 

Is this where my self-doubt and second-guessing come from? 

It’s all two sides of the same coin, isn’t it? 

On one side of my coin lives my self-doubt, low self-esteem, second-guessing, regretting. Being unsure. Uncertain. Questioning everything.

On the other side of my coin is my confidence. My self-love. My desire to grow. It’s all there. 

But the sides of my coin aren’t evenly distributed.

I can say without any doubt that one side of my coin weighs heavier. It holds all the impact.

And as much as I would love to lead with my confidence and self-love, it’s quite challenging to allow my best parts to shine when I’m still being weighed down by the worst of me.

I’m not sure how to change. I have ideas. But again, in order to get to a place where I can fully believe in myself, I need to investigate where it started and how I lost the belief. If I ever had it to begin with.

The first memory I have of feeling this way was when we moved to our second house in Buffalo Grove. That was the first year when I had challenges with friends. With feeling like I didn’t belong. I believe I was six. Or seven. It was mostly neighborhood dynamics. Different from our first house. And I don’t think I adapted that well at first. I do think I found my place eventually, but it wasn’t always easy.

The next memory I have was later. I was in 5^th or 6^th grade. I remember staying home on the weekend. I was watching TV while reading a magazine. You came into the room and asked me why I wasn’t outside with friends. I distinctly remember lying. Saying I didn’t feel like it. But really, I didn’t feel like anyone wanted me around.

There were many years when I wasn’t sure if I had any real friends. But when I look back, I can’t figure out if it was true or if it was all something I made up in my head. Like did no one actually want to hang out with me? Or did I just assume that and in turn push people away?

Was it because I was probably different from a lot of the girls I grew up with? And maybe I should have been chasing other types of kids as my core friends? I wish I had leaned into being an outcast. Maybe I’d have found a more appropriate circle of friends that way. It did feel at times like I was attempting to infiltrate a group I didn’t belong to. One I wasn’t welcome in.

Again, maybe I imagined it all. Maybe it was my lack of self-esteem that forced those thoughts into my head. Questioning my place in the social hierarchy when no one else was thinking about it.

But I did find this need to fit in. To be cool. To be accepted.

When I found alcohol at fourteen and drugs soon after I found a way in. I found a way to feel confidence for the first time. But it was superficial. I never found a deep sense of acceptance while under the influence of any substances. Maybe I felt it in the moment but certainly not the next morning.

I’m realizing that a lot of these issues are because I was, for the majority of my lifetime, chasing an image that I don’t think I was ever meant to chase. I think I ultimately wasn’t true to myself. I wasn’t seeking out a life that aligned with my own values. With my own idea of happiness. I was chasing society’s idea of what happiness looked like. 

I can’t remember ever stopping as a kid or teenager or young adult to ask myself what happiness looked like to me. 

It’s as if the pressure of the world around me dictated all of my desires in life. Like I was supposed to follow a certain path because that was the one path we were told to follow. And I truly believe that path was never paved for my use. 

I always compared myself to others, even as a kid. Comparing to other families who had more money. Bigger houses. Nicer things. Then it was with my body. I’d constantly wish I had that naturally thin and beautiful body my peers had. And later I envied the girls who had the best boyfriends. The ones who were so loved and respected by their partners. I didn’t know what that felt like.

At some point, I decided I was meant for the gravel path on the side instead of that paved path with everyone else. Or the trail through the trees. And I think I’ve lived my life like that. Accepting the boulders and pebbles. The potholes and hills. I adapted because my road was a little bumpier. 

I still compare myself to others. To all those around me who seem to have it better. Or easier. 

But maybe we all have gravel roads with potholes. Maybe no one has a perfectly paved path. Because most of those people who I’ve been jealous of. Who I’ve wished I could be. They probably have their own world of issues and doubts and regrets. And it’s not like I’m looking out for them. I’m not checking in on them to make sure their confidence isn’t a façade. 

What if we are all walking around the world pretending to be confident? Maybe none of us know what we’re doing. We’re just faking it until we make it.

And I think that works at times. Like when you become an adult or a parent or a boss or anything big with a lot of responsibility, you’re really just figuring it out moment to moment. There aren’t a lot of realistic handbooks in life. We do have to at times take steps even when we’re unsure. But maybe not when it comes to our core personality. Maybe that’s where I made my mistake in life. Maybe fake it till you make it isn’t meant for your entire identity.

As kids we are often told by adults to be a certain kind of person. To think a certain way. To follow rules and have manners and respect our elders and respect the traditions and dos and don’ts of our specific culture. But it really doesn’t leave a lot of space for identity. 

Could it be that my low self-esteem is linked to the fact that I never fully understood myself? As if I couldn’t love myself if I wasn’t totally sure about who I was? How can one be confident and unsure at the same time? I don’t think it’s possible. Not in a sustainable way.

Maybe that is the true link. The connection between self-identity and self-esteem. How could I love myself fully if I don’t know who I am?

I know who I am as a wife. As a mother. As a friend. But I’m not so sure that I know who I am alone. What are my values and belief’s? What do I want out of life? What kind of person do I want to be? 

How do I go about finding my authenticity for the first time in my life?

Is the answer to get out of my comfort zone? To take a leap and go run with a group? Maybe I need to allow myself to be a bit impulsive. To say yes to things I normally say no to in an effort to find my place in this world. And I know it’ll be scary at times because, though the border of my comfort zone isn’t set in stone, there are certain walls up for a reason. But I do need to see the importance of understanding where my protective tendencies make sense while at the same time demolishing the walls that aren’t necessary. Some aren’t anymore. Some never were.

So, I’ve been thinking about what advice you’d give me if you could. I can hear your voice. I can see your hands as you reach a brand-new journal out to me. You’d tell me to write it down. To make a list of all the things I need to do to find my identity. Will it start with joining a run club? Or joining a writing group and not only writing alone in my bedroom? Make a new friend? Or connect with an old one? 

Or is this more of a solo journey? 

I’m not entirely sure what will make my list. But what I do know is that I have to start somewhere, and I have to be willing to make mistakes too. 

I want to live a more authentic life. I just need to find out what that means to me. So, I will start my journey to find out who I really am. And how to get out of my comfort zone and out of my own way so I can thrive.

In an effort to be totally transparent, this letter to you is really the first part of two or three. Because I’ve uncovered something else while contemplating my absence of identity. These threads that connect at my low self-esteem, they’re all equally important and they all seem to be related.

More on that next week…

I love you, Mom.

Love,

Rachel