I hate being right.

Not really.

Everybody likes to be right sometimes. Except, I’m right all the time, and this isn’t even an ego stroke. It’s a fact.

My mom taught me to speak the truth, and while I was not always an honest teen-who is really – but I have come to enjoy and even expect the truth at all costs. So much so that I distance myself from people who lie. Even ‘little white’ ones. I see no logic in misleading someone or even withholding the truth. Yeah, people from my past life would say I have come a long way.

I have learned to speak what I know and not from conjecture or objectively. The truth is what it is, and it can never be anything less. Or more. And it doesn’t need my help. I am often quiet for this very reason, but when I speak, I speak only what I know to be a fact. Sure, I may offer my opinion, but it’s usually based on statistical fact unless spoken from a place of experience and emotion, which I also try not to do.

Another truth, I listen. I’ve learned to listen to what you say and what you don’t say. I listen to your tone and your body language. I listen to your silence, and I act or speak accordingly.

This has created a problem within myself because I am also very empathetic. Not to be confused with sympathetic because that serves neither of us. But I try to apply what I learn and know about a person, couple this with how we interact with one another, and I conclude a theory of how we should interact. With this, I always give 100%. The problem is, most people don’t know how to give 100% to another person. This creates an imbalanced relationship that ultimately ends abruptly. This is also why I tend to keep to myself. I mean, I want friends but do I really?

As a mom of 12, it can become cumbersome to split my time, especially doing things outside of my desires. Add to that being a wife and business owner, friendships can become burdensome. This alone equates to another problem, dependency. I would need to depend on my husband and children to fulfill the desire of being wanted and appreciated, and let’s face it, that’s not always going to be the case.

This is not to say my husband is not great and my children aren’t loving because they are. It’s just that my life begins to revolve around them.

I have found, recently, that I have no desire to care fully for myself. I mean, I bathe. šŸ™„ But the longing that I once had to wake up and be my best has turned into waking up and doing my best, and they are not the same.

My oldest asked what I wanted for Christmas, and I told him nothing. He looked at me perplexed, to which I responded, “I want to get my nails done, and my hair done.” I want my eyebrows arched and some new heels. That requires maintenance, and I just don’t have it in me to commit to it. Saying that made me feel sad inside, but it was so true. I am just robotically moving, doing what needs to be done.

I am overwhelmed. The worst part is that I know what I need to do to fix it but have no ambition in doing so. šŸ˜• It’s a very odd feeling. Something I am not quite used to. It’s not necessarily a problem, now, but I foresee that it will be.

It’s amazing how truthful we can be to others but won’t accept the truth about ourselves. My problem is, I don’t know what that truth is. šŸ™ƒ



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