I am nobody. You probably have heard my name only in that it is so common I assume you have encountered a Lauren or two in your life. We are a tolerable bunch. Sure some have broken out and found fame, but the rest of us are perfectly content fulfilling a mix of God given roles balanced with socially acceptable levels feminity and feminism. And this is what I told myself.

My story is among a flood of so many, and it was for this reason I didn’t share. It holds nothing spectacular. But recently I have been reminded that there is room for everyones story.

I grew up usually being referred to as Jesse’s little sister, in my adolescence I was Luke’s wife, then judahs mom. All titles I treasure and will forever proudly wear. In fact, to try and say who I am without these could never be accurate. But still on the rare occasion that someone knew me outside of these titles I would feel so much joy and fulfillment. There was more of a me then just in reference to someone else.

I began to search for where I got off and lost myself. I thought maybe it was in becoming a mother and the pressure I put on myself. This was my highest goal for so long, only to be gravely disappointed in the lonely, many times unrecognized reality of motherhood. Then I thought it was my marriage. Marriage was what kept me from being who I am. Then religion. Oh religion had done me so wrong, I had thought.

But once I had blamed everything I noticed I was still unable to separate my truest self from these roles. I realized it is in all of these and the struggle that make up who I am. I’ve always been in it all.

I was in the rebellion, I was in the oppressive ideology of womanhood, pushing myself down and becoming small in a desperate attempt to hide who I was and trying to convince myself that I am not. I was in the motherhood, showing myself that I am nurturing and capable to give up my desires and body for my child. I was in my marriage, able to partner and devote my life to our common goals. These things were all present, but I only knew one manifestation of them.

I needed all of this to discover who I am. With a combination of thankful bitterness I am stumbling out of these molds that were cast for me. I am moving forward, so grateful to have gained a new understanding and a new perspective that only could have been attained through experience and crawling out the other side.

And to be honest, I think crawling is a much better way to move on from something difficult. Hands and knees on the floor, feeling everything along the way. You see and experience things you never could have if you were walking.