My 33rd List

I’ve been having a pity party for a couple of days now. Between turning 33 yesterday and another major important event in my life all happening at once, it has been extremely overwhelming. I have to admit I haven’t handled it very well. If not for my children I would have stayed in bed both days.

 

So tonight I’m sitting here working on some things and thinking about what’s been bothering me most about my birthday this year. I’ve had the recurring thought that I accomplished absolutely nothing last year. Of course, I did, but to me—the perfectionist—it feels like nothing. (For the record, I’ve completed over a year of college.)

 

I never really jumped on the Bucket List bandwagon. I guess I never saw any relevance in it for myself. Until now. I just had the thought that I don’t want to wait until I get bad news or my health goes south to decide to finally do something with my life. Maybe the reason I didn’t accomplish much is because I didn’t really plan to accomplish anything. Interesting school of thought there…

 

So here it is…*a list of things I hope to accomplish during my 33rd year on this Earth (or, at least, some time in the near future):

 

• Finish writing a book (fiction).
• Submit book/find an agent.
• Earn my A.A. degree.
• Graduate with an “A” average.
• Enroll in Bachelors program.
• Decide what I want to do (career-wise).
• Learn how to have fun with my kids again.
• Send more snail mail to friends/family.
• Follow my creative urges/don’t stifle my creativity.
• Love myself a little more. (Stop being so critical towards myself.)
• Encourage my daughter to be more daring with her art.
• Go on a vacation with my family.
• Laugh more.
• Learn how to relax.
• Sew more raggedy dolls.
• Sew Emily some skirts for school.

 

*I reserve the right to add to this list or revise as necessary. :)

Letting Myself Go

It's one of those days. After lots of great family time last week, it all ended Saturday night when we had to take Robert back. Then I got the news yesterday about what day they'll be leaving and that has just thrown me into a huge tailspin.

I've known this was coming for months. I kept telling myself this time would be easier. It isn't. In fact, it's worse. I feel like there's so many things left undone and unspoken and too many loose ends flapping in the wind. I pray to God I can make it through the coming months.

I'm tired. I'm stressed. I'm worried. I feel like letting myself go. I'm so tired of struggling. I'm tired of fighting for what seems to be a hopeless cause sometimes. Is this all there is to life? I hope not.

 

(I will be okay. I just need to vent today.)

Digging It Out Of The Trash

My life has been a whirlwind of insane events over the last two months. Every ounce of me has been uprooted and changed. And I don't like it.

I've been "just dealing" with everything that's been happening, telling myself to just keep putting one foot in front of the other and make it through another day. But I don't want to just barely survive. I want to live.

I have avoided blogging for several reasons. First, I have found that when I am most open and honest, I get a greater response--on both ends of the spectrum. People call me and ask "politely" if I'm okay, or how I'd doing. (By the way, if you do that, that's ALWAYS a sure sign to me that you've been "checking up" on me. *wink*) I don't like those questions. Especially when they're asked every single day. I appreciate the concern, but sometimes it almost feels unauthentic. Not just that, but this is a very difficult time for me, and every day is a challenge. Sometimes I just need support and encouragement, not questions.

The next reason is because sometimes avoiding talking about it keeps me under control of myself. My emotions are terribly out of whack right now, and talking about what's bothering me usually sends me into an awful crying fit. I try very hard to keep myself pulled together so my children won't be alarmed by anything going on.

Third, I've pretty much put a stop to every bit of writing. Period. I tend to do this when I'm going through a rough time. I plug my writing and it comes to a screeching halt. There again, it's the same as above: writing is talking, and talking brings out a lot of emotion at times.

Those last two reasons have had me thinking, though. The last time Robert was deployed to Iraq, I wrote, and I wrote a lot. I wrote about everything and shared every emotion I felt during that time. Sometimes I wonder if that was a good thing or not (I am glad I did it, for posterity).

I don't like to allow myself to become vulnerable to the general public. At the same time, though, I know without a doubt that every time I share something deeply personal, without fail I get a lot of response from others sharing their own similar experiences, or offering to pray for me, or just letting me know that they care and are thinking about me. That means a lot.

I guess you could say when things started getting hectic in my life, I decided to just trash my blogs. Let them go to waste. Have the weeds take over. I figured eventually everyone would forget about me if I just stopped talking. Then I realized that I've always blogged for me. Yes, the attention is gratifying, but that was never what made me start my first blog. I wanted to share. I wanted to live. I wanted to connect.

So while I would love nothing more than to hide, I think I will dig this blog out of the garbage and bring it back to life. That doesn't mean I'll be here every day. I have to take it slowly--one day at a time.

One Step At A Time

When I decided to go back to college last year and finally get a degree, it was a huge leap of faith. Several months into my education, I became incredibly unhappy with my classes, but couldn't understand why. My grades were great (except for the last class I had), but there was something missing.

I was excited about the prospect of earning a college degree. But the excitement of what I was going for quickly waned. For years I'd dreamed of becoming a teacher, yet when the sudden realization hit me that this was a dream that would quickly become reality, I was uneasy, unsure, and most of all afraid of making a mistake.

Dreams Morph

It wasn't really that I no longer wanted to be a teacher. I'd still love to at least give it a try to see if I'd be good at it or not. But my course of studies was definitely not one that I enjoyed. Social Sciences, which is what my major was, just did not seem to be my thing. Yet, after having waited so long to finally decide to stick it out and get a degree, I was afraid of admitting that I was not enjoying my studies. Shouldn't learning be fun, after all?

After a few months of deliberation and consideration, I finally decided I needed to either change paths or suffer and deal with the agony of studying something I wasn't interested in, just so I could say, "I finally finished." Not good.

See, this is how I've lived almost my entire life. Living and doing to please others. So worried about what others would say or think about me. But this is my life. The only miserable person would be me. And that just wouldn't work.

Dreams change. People change. And if we aren't careful, we could go on living off of dead dreams...dreams that died so long ago they're dirty, stinking, rotten dreams. I think that's where I found myself: Fighting for a dead dream. My life is much different now than it was 10-15 years ago. I finally figured out there's nothing wrong with a dream dying. There's something really wrong with holding on to it and trying to make it still fit into my life, though.

Making a Change

I worked up my courage and decided what I wanted to study was something totally different. I realized then that the school I was attending did not offer a program tailored to my needs. This was obstacle #2. To change my plan, I needed to change schools. Scary.

Change is never easy and rarely fun, but sometimes very necessary. Once I'd finally worked up the nerve to talk to someone at a different school, I discovered my zeal for higher education suddenly sparked to life again. Just hearing about a possible course of action I could take to change my college major made me feel better. I knew these classes would be much more interesting to me. It was the right thing--for me.

Breathe, Release

This is still an ongoing process. I will be starting classes at my new school, under a new degree program, in less than two weeks. I'm still scared, but excited. It was far from easy for me to make the decision to change my major, let alone withdraw from my current school and enroll in a new one.

I don't like change. It makes me nervous. But there are times in life when change is required, and when you make it, your life instantly shifts and becomes better, especially when you know the change placed you back on the right path.

For now, I'll breathe, and release. Very shortly, I will hold those wonderful documents in my hands that verify my accomplishments. Those will be fantastic, no doubt. Even better than that is the inner satisfaction I have, knowing I'm doing something to better myself and my family. Nothing can top that.

Books that surprise you

I can’t keep it a secret any longer. I am officially a Stephenie Meyer fan. Specifically, a Twilight fan. I didn’t want to be. I tried my best not to be sucked into the vortex. Alas, I failed.  :)

After watching the Twilight movie this past weekend, I was too interested in “what happens next…?” I had to grab New Moon to find out, and ended up reading it in less than 3 days.

I love it when books surprise me…don’t you?