Sober or not, who is Ruby?

Majority of my time now, is spent sober. 

Sober Ruby; questions herself constantly. Doesn’t know if she’s gay or straight, doesn’t know if she’s worthy of anyone’s love, doesn’t know if she’s a good person or not. 

Unsober Ruby; doesn’t give a fuck. Her sexuality doesn’t matter, she doesn’t care what people think, she knows her good deeds are worth while. 

I’m not sure which Ruby I prefer. 

Sober, my mind is clear but my anxiety and depression is high. I isolate and don’t put myself in a position that could help define me. 
Unsober, my anxiety and depression disappear, but so do my morals. I do things that I know I shouldn’t. 

I’m at this point, where I don’t know who the fuck I am. (Recovering) addiction and BPD run my life. I literally don’t have a say in who I am or how I act, I have no control whatsoever. It’s hard. In my mind, I know how I should be behaving, but actions do match my beliefs. 

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The identity struggle 

She is a mum, it’s all she knows. 
The tell-tale signs reside on her face. If you pay close attention, you can learn more about her, than she even knows about herself. 

The bags under her eyes, they represent the hours she has spent in a loving embrace with her child, while your were peacefully dreaming. 
Each line above her brow tells a different story; some of bliss, some of anguish. 

Her eyes, oh her eyes. Lifeless and lacklustre, until that moment her child is in her sight, it is then that you see all the love and compassion. 
Her life could be told, just by looking at her. 
Maybe if you look hard enough, you could tell her what she yearns to know, the question that is forever on her mind; “who am I, if not a mum?”