Stress is the bane of my existence, as is the fun little red polka dots that follow right behind it marching along every visible surface on my body. I have had this wonderful thing called pityriasis rosea for the past decade and it rears it's ugly head when my anxiety levels shoot through my roof of sanity. So now here I sit polka dotted, uncomfortable and nauseous.


Hibernating in my nice, cozy room I finally watched Julie & Julia yesterday. I have been wanting to see this movie for some time but never seemed to find the time to do so. I will have to admit that Julia Childs voice makes me want to rip my ears off but I endured it white knuckling my chenille blanket. Julie's story felt very familiar to me as I was inching down the line towards the "dreaded" 30 mark, I felt that I was a writer but can you really be called that when you haven't had anything major published? I have had short stories and poetry published but never a full blown novel. I have written a thousand stories, wait, let me rephrase that, I have started writing a thousand stories and just like Julie I never seemed to be able to finish them. Her theory was she had ADD, with me, life just crept in. Having a sick child takes priority over everything else, I was the Doctor Ninja;-)
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Identity is such a tricky word, it's who you are or maybe who you want to be or maybe who you are around family but not around friends or maybe you don't know your identity. It floats around somewhere in this vast spiral universe. When I think of identity I think of the word evolve. Can your identity evolve? My 30 year old behavioral characteristics do not mirror my 20 year old characteristics but that's not true for everyone. With me, circumstances have evolved my identity into something strong and determined. And I was determined to finish my novel before I turned 30, I gave myself a deadline just like Julie because otherwise it is just another project, another book half finished just sitting there dormant in my Andrea File.
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With my strength I will be able to endure the letters of rejection, I'm not being pessimistic just realistic, there's a difference. My identity for the longest time has been the mother with the sick child who never seems to get a break and I let that happen. I fell right in to that skin so easily, for a full decade that was me. Not anymore, I have no more attachments to "Me" who dangle like little self-pity badges. So here lies the question....What's my identity? Who am I?
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I am Andrea a fabulous mixture of mom, wife, daughter, friend and writer.
I will always be on the journey of self-discovery no matter what age. Learning about yourself is learning about others and celebrating their identities along with your own.


On a side note: I just connected a trapezoid on my calf....see, fun at every turn;-)

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