Remember the worm from Alice in Wonderland and the question he asked Alice?
“Whooooo are you?”

I am a wife to my husband, a daughter to my parents, a sister to many women, an advocate for lupus, an employee, a disciple, but who am I to myself? This thought has popped in my head a lot, especially on the weekend — which for me are getting to be extension of the work week filled with errands. True story: I went to Marshall’s and the mall with my husband. That’s it. But my body needed a three-hour nap to recuperate.

I guess if I wanted to use someone as a scapegoat I’d point to my Dad. I remember plenty a time me and my little sister played in his law office in downtown Kansas City to finish up paperwork.  I was too young to notice (he had such an awesome put-put golf game to play with) and it didn’t really take a toll on our relationship. It was just a part of spending time with Dad on the weekends.But now, looking back with 31-year-old eyes, I can clearly see where I get it from, lol.

It’s funny now when my parents tell me to slow down and relax. I almost want to give them the hard sideye and tell them, being a busybody is in my DNA. A free Saturday? Pish posh.
With all the pat Girl Scout and youth group meeting, piano recitals, club meeting, basketball games?! I was busy all the time — it’s ingrained in me. Maybe relaxation is next to idleness in my mind, and we all know idleness is the devil’s workshop — or so we’re told, lol. Many of us were put into so many activities to keep us “out of trouble” and for little black girls it meant staying out of someone’s bedroom. Let’s keep it real, lol.

Yes, I’m definitely driven, but sometimes I wonder where am I driving and is Gabrielle (mind, body and soul) coming along for the ride? The concept of loving myself is fairly new to me. For so long loving myself meant reaching goals, setting standards and not falling for life’s traps. That kind of love leads to a whole of burn out. And I can’t keep doing that to myself, especially now that I have lupus and my kidneys are affected.

So again, I find myself at this question that I’ve managed to write around, but not answer. Who am I to Gabrielle? I’m drawing a blank, lol.
Which,in all honesty, is no laughing matter.

Who are you to yourself? Have you ever stopped to think about it?