You are what you do...ain't that true

Okay I apologize for the terrible rhyme, but it was irresistible. I have been doing a lot of thinking recently, after quite a long time it must be said, and I was thinking about what makes us who we are. In the past I used to think that our thoughts and intentions are a bigger part of that picture. But using myself as an example I have come to realize that the sum of all the actions you do in a day, not even a lifetime, just a day, build up to who who become. It is a constant evolution dictated by our daily actions so I might think I am a reader, or a thinker, or a writer but until I do those things regularly, my claim means nothing.
Just doing an action regularly slowly becomes part of who you are, what you think and your intentions are like fuel but no matter how much fuel you have in a car it will be useless until you turn on the ignition and actually drive.
So if you want to call yourself a charitable person just thinking good thoughts of others won't make you one you must be charitable on a regular basis.
If you want to become an artist pick up that brush and do something daily then you realize that most things that we want to be require discipline and dedication and a lot of effort and if we put that effort we will get there.
It is easy to hide behind insecurity of not being good enough but what we really lack is the hard work everyone wants it easy, the shortcut, the excuse of not being gifted naturally is the best example of not doing something because there is no easy way.
The only thing in my life that I have put in effort for is my daughter and I see the result of that in myself and can safely say that that when you do put in the immense hard work there is always an output that is tangible.
And similarly not doing something, you slowly chip away parts of yourself, we are not constant fixed being, parts can be taken away and added, we are a work in progress, as long as we put in the effort and constantly evaluate, weed out the unnecessary and cultivate whatever gives us our meaning, contentment naturally follows

It feels so strange to write after such a long time - I had turned my back on writing and now it seems so difficult to turn back. Why was I so lazy and is anyone even interested in knowing?
I just felt I had nothing to say – my self totally submerged in being another person.
I was walking farther and farther away from myself getting totally absorbed and assimilated into being someone else – the mother, who only had thoughts about her child read books regarding only her, all hobbies all activities centered around her.
What time was left, after she slept, squandered away in mindless games, its as if I was running away from thinking or being more. It felt that the only thing I could do well was being a mom and was scared to try to be more, it felt like my natural vocation and became a carte blanche to be nothing else. It felt so safe to be what I instinctively knew how, to do the the first thing I was so good at without it taking massive amount of effort.
I woke up to the slow atrophy of my mind after reading someone else’s innocent remark. Changes that are personal can come from such impersonal sources.
I find that strangely hilarious.
Now it seems that I am back to trying to reclaim some of my old self without feeling guilty.
It was so scary to return to this page like a garden that you had ignored and was now filled with weeds, at the same time I feel excited as well at this tentative reclamation.
It becomes very easy to hide behind excuses, to rationalize why you are wasting away your mind why you are turning your back on growing forward, so easy and safe to lapse into mindlessness after a tiring day….
I feel so exposed right now, my fingers hesitating at the 'publish post' button. That is what writing does…. it brings the mirror forward