I know my MOM loves me.  Of course, SHE does, but she’s my mom and she’s supposed to love her child.

That’s the excuse I used forever to beat myself up.

I convinced myself–and attempted to convince the world–for more than half of my life that I had it all together.  I was strong.  I was unphased.  I was smart.  I could do it all without fear.  The larger events happening around me?  That’s just life.  Why cry over spilled milk?

But I could only wear that smile and bright red dress for so long before they became too restrictive and heavy and eventually impossible to put on every morning.

It turns out that being adopted, having my father just leave one day, gaining a new step-father (and distraction for my mother), having a sister who was battling addiction and failed loves did affect me no matter how much I wanted to pretend they didn’t.

The effect?  I became convinced that I deserved this all.  Clearly I wasn’t enough.  I mean I was the common denominator.  I wasn’t ever enough to make people stay–to keep them from leaving me.  Yep, this was just life.  Some people live in golden sunshine and others don’t.  I was one of the “others.”  Identifying it almost felt like a relief.  Now that I understood the ways of the world I could move forward with the knowledge that this was the way life was going to be.  Make some adjustments to your expectations girl and hope to have to opportunity warm up in the reflected glow of the ones you know who are on the golden path.

That got me through the next few years.

Then some really big shit happened:  Marriage, the arrival of a child with 48 hours notice, the loss of a tremendously important loved one, pregnancy and birth.

I discovered real, true love.

Real love.  True love.  It wasn’t waning.  It wasn’t perfect.  But, it endured.

And slowly, over time, I’ve been discovering that my mom didn’t just love me because it was her job.  I didn’t have to keep spinning for the happiness of others to be worthy of their love.  There might even be a chance that I could love myself.  Not too much right away–let’s not get ahead of ourselves–but a little bit here and there just to see how it feels.

The unconditional love of my children* has been one of the best lessons on this path, but so too have the words of fellow bloggers and authors like Brene Brown who remind me I do deserve love–most importantly from myself TODAY.

Brene is celebrating a week of worthiness on her blog to commemorate the release of her DVD The Hustle of Worthiness.  I have a copy of the DVD to give away.  Please leave a comment below–maybe share a tip on how you discovered your worthiness–to be entered to win.  The winner will be chosen at random on Monday.

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*Two of my three children are still rather young.  There is some divine power that builds up the tank of the love you get from your children when they’re young to leave you with enough reserves to survive their teen years.

I didn’t have any issues with 30.  The jokes came.  I laughed at all the “you’re old” cards that were sent my way.  I had a new job, a new husband, a new place to live and a new son.

Thirty was a breeze.

I thought 40 would be the same way, but I flipped the calendar to March yesterday and HOLY CRAP.  It’s like a truck barreling at me.  I’m taking a hard look at my life.  There is much I should be grateful for.

BUT

I thought I’d be in a different place.  I thought I’d have other accomplishments under my belt.  I thought I would have learned more lessons, been more mature, become less sensitive, more self-assured.

Basically, I thought I’d have my shit together by 40.

I know I’m not supposed to compare myself to other people, but it’s hard not to sometimes.  Honestly though, it’s the comparison I make against who I thought I would be that hurts the most.

Maybe it’s being adopted.  Maybe it was growing up in a family that looked different than most at the time.  Maybe it was the strong feminist influence from my beloved aunt.  Could be a dad that picked up and walked away one day.  Whatever it was (and seriously I’ve had enough counseling to have figured this out by now) I feel like I was supposed to excel at something big–something worthwhile.

I feel like I need to prove that I am worthwhile.

Wow.  Those eleven words were really difficult to write.

Well there it is.  I’m going to be mulling that one over for a bit.

Luckily, I still have 28 more days to sort this out.