I’m somebody, I’m somebody, who am I?

This is a game we used to pay in the car when I was a kid. So you pick a character, action or thing and others have to guess it while you say just ‘yes’ or ‘no’.

Are you a human?

Yes.

Are you a boy?

No.

Etc.

Today the game appears to be called ‘What’s Up?’ and is flipped so you wear a crown with a mystery card in, and have to guess the character/activity others have chosen for you. (Same difference inside out).

For me, the phrase ‘I’m somebody, I’m somebody, who am I?’ has an addictive rhythm I keep returning to. Because the truth of the matter is; I don’t know.

I can answer the first two questions I’ve posed above, and then I’m basically stumped.

I was somebody, once. But I really can’t remember much about her.

The bits I liked best about her are faded or fuzzy. And I don’t really know what happend.

I suppose I got muddled by motherhood.

I got broken by work.

A bad relationship eroded me, piece by piece, a frog in a pot. Suffocating without realising.

There has been so much loss in general – and bits of me came away with each one. I didn’t stop to pick them up.

I have continued to run on momentum, necessity, and adrenaline – for years.

I’m so used to battening down the hatches, rolling with the punches, getting through, making it to the end of a day – that my brain can’t do long-term thinking anymore. It’s stuck in panic mode.

Or maybe I’ve just learned to think my brain is crap and that I’m rubbish and lazy. I don’t know. One of the many things I’ve lost is the truth.

I DO know that I have been surviving, not living. For a long time.

I have been terrified of change because the line I’ve been walking is so fine. A nether edge…

It has been easier to say No, to everything, because No is safe. No is the status quo. No is not more to overwhelm me, to cope with, to upset a very precarious balance.

And when I haven’t even been able to say No, it has been easier to say nothing at all. At first I thought I was picking my battles. I ended up losing my voice.

But like it or not, change is happening – and I have to learn how to live again. And how to do my own narration.

I mean, survival is good, but even Bear Grylls doesn’t want to live on nettles and yak wee ALL the time, right? (And he always, ALWAYS does his own narration).

Time to jump out of the pot, frog. And hop off into the sunset!

So I’m on a mission to ask myself more Yes and No questions about who the hell I am, and what the hell I like to do. And if – no WHAT – I’m actually good at.

For a lot of the time I’m a Mum. And that has to take precedence still. I need to help the Smalls process THEIR change. And mostly, for the first time in a long time – I’m pretty confident I’m doing a good job of that bit. I’m a better Mum than I’ve ever been, and finding more joy in it than I ever have.

While there is fulfilment there, it is not the sum total of who I am. It can’t be. As much for their sake as for mine.

Now I have pockets of time now every other weekend where I get to be me. Just me.

Just somebody I don’t know.

What I CAN tell you already, is that this mystery woman does NOT like cleaning the house, making the beds, sorting all the washing, and pining for the children all weekend.

So it’s high time to find out what sort of somebody I am.

Am I a walker? A runner? An artist? A yogini? A gym bunny? A writer? A lover? A friend? A performer? A career girl? A dancer? A fashionista? All of the above? Something I’ve never thought of – or tried – before?

I’m somebody, I’m somebody, who am I?

For a start, I’m somebody who is starting to say Yes.

And I am somebody who is open to suggestions…

So if you’ve got an activity, a club, a self-help book, a Me Time ritual that works for you, ANYTHING YOU WANT TO SUGGEST, I’d love to hear about it – and give it a go.

What makes you feel like you? What makes you the somebody you are?

I want to try new stuff. And old stuff. And I’ll write about it on here.

(Just please note I already know I can’t stand heights, so I’m not throwing myself off any high shit, K?)

Thoughts on a postcard. Or comment. (That’s probably easiest).

xxx