Tuesday, April 17, 2012


Human beings are narcissistic creatures. And before you get all high and mighty saying, "Speak for yourself," I ask you to look in the mirror (ironically) and honestly tell yourself it's not all about the Me Party. 

Because it is.

And my thought for today is that it's not always a bad thing to put yourself first. It's like on the airplane, when the oxygen masks come down and they always tell you to put it on yourself before helping the person next to you. Because what good are you when you're oxygen-deprived and dead 35,000 feet up in the air, right? 

But back to the 'Me' issue. Recently, I've been thinking a lot about what defines us. What labels do we feel comfortable in and who imposes these labels on us? Society? Your parents? Yourself? When I got married, I naively believed that I would not change. That I would still be the exact same person I circa singledom. But now, almost two years into wedded bliss, I am struggling with who I am, who I've become and who I was. And I cannot even imagine who I will be!

Don't get me wrong - I entered marriage with the full knowledge of what I was getting myself into and I accept the challenges and responsibilities of being legally wed. But as I settle into a new pair of 'shoes' labelled 'wife' and 'potential mother', sometimes I find that they give me blisters.

This is for the simple fact that sometimes my selfish, narcissistic and self-involved side rears its ugly head. I would be lying if I said there weren't days where I simply want to be left alone, left to my own devices - which translates to gallivanting with friends with questionable amounts of alcohol, nicotine and raucous laughter, oblivious to time and space. Or simply pack up and grab the next career opportunity in a foreign land. But as fleeting as the desire comes, it leaves and I am thrust back into the throes of my daily life. Which - for the record - isn't always a bad thing. Stability does have perks, you know.

My point is, I find myself reflecting on who I was, my youthful aspirations, my gung-ho fearlessness and comparing it to a more subdued me today. Granted, I'm older and yes, thank God I don't still spend five nights a week getting drunk at a bar and beating myself up over a deadbeat boyfriend. But I DO miss my 'spark'. My independence, to an extent.

I know I risk sounding callous about my marriage and even ungrateful for my blessings. But I promise you that is not the sentiment I intend to portray. I love my husband and I count my blessings everyday. Yet, I cannot shake off the feeling that some days I feel like I am a shadow of who I was and who I thought I would be.