I planned, prepared for, and hosted my first real party yesterday. Yea, my first. At 37. I mean, I planned my wedding, but I paid other people to execute the plan on the day of, so it wasn’t all me. And this time it wasn’t all me either, but it mostly was. And, I guess I’m writing about it because I find myself, a day later, wondering if it was good enough. Was it impressive? Well done? Unique? Valued? Really seen and really noticed. My personal insecurities projected onto the event I put on.  

I’m a little uncomfortable with how uncomfortable I am with not knowing what others thought about the production/product. I don’t like being so insecure so late in life. AND, there’s a part of me that is impressed by myself. I picked out, ordered and arranged flowers for goodness’ sake! And the “brand” consistency throughout was pretty spot on. But, I felt and feel lackluster. It’s a theme in these recent days and months of mine. My daughter outshines me easily (and I want her to - she’s so so precious and worthy). My hair has thinned and fallen out. My face only ages. My body is too soft. I look at my camera roll and there’s no evidence that I exist (except for the occasional selfie with Amber). I feel like I don’t matter. I excel at nothing anyone notices and, well, that’s a first for me. And I don’t know how to shake off that uneasy, hurt feeling.