I’m optimistic. I love beginnings, because at the beginning, everything is possible. New days, new weeks, new months, new years. I try to approach it with how I can be better. Over the past year, I’ve realized that I was a little too kind to myself. There’s always a reason floating in the ether for me to
have deserve ten more minutes of sleep, a late night bowl of ice cream, a night to party, one more drink. Self-indulgence is my achilles heel, and I’ve often joked about being a closet hedonist.
As great as 2011 was (and it WAS great), I became overwhelmed with this huge anxiety about what 2012 would bring. More specifically, do I have the stuff it takes to bring my goals to fruition. I look at the goals that I accomplished and wonder if I put in more work, could I have doubled that. What is it about me that gets to a certain point and stops? Fear? Coasting on my abilities? Laziness?
I’ve felt so angsty lately. What if I’ve waited to late to fulfill these goals? What if I screw everything up? What if my kids feel neglected in my pursuit for…whatever I’m pursuing. WHAT THE HELL AM I PURSUING?? I don’t know how I went from the land of “everything is possible” to utter doubt, but it bugs me more than anything.
Maybe with my tiny victories, I get to push myself to see what I’m really made of. The thing is, I like myself. I’m not unhappy with who I am. I just know that to an extent, it isolates me from my family. That’s still a hard pill for me to swallow. What if I’m living my life all wrong? I hate being afraid. It’s the reason that I’m so impetuous. I do things before my fear response gets to kick in.
If you don’t hesitate long enough to let the fear register, you don’t get the chance to be afraid. It’s the reason I walked out of my marriage on the way out to work; the reason I booked my ticket to DC the moment the idea hit me; it’s the reason I blurt out I love you as soon as I feel it. That extra second it takes could be the difference between altering my future and wondering what might have been. Is that foolish of me? Had I given myself the chance to (rightfully?) be afraid of pursuing a relationship with the ex husband, sure I could have avoided drama. I also would have avoided bringing two of the most awesome kids I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing into the world. If I hadn’t walked out that day, how much worse would things have gotten? If I hadn’t gone to DC and put everything on the line, I wouldn’t be missing out on so many family events, but I also might still be struggling to get published. As far as telling a person I loved them, well, there is nothing in this world that makes me feel freer, even if they don’t feel the same.
I just want to be a good person, and do the right things for my kids. Maybe be the type of person that my family can look up to, and not see me struggling all the damn time. Right now, my refrigerator is dying, I don’t have use of my car, and I just can’t seem to get anything right. That has me feeling hella defeated. I KNOW it’s gonna get better. I KNOW I’m just going through a bad spell, but you’ll be happy to know that I haven’t cried ONCE. I’m just having a teeny tiny moment.
For those of you who I know are going to pop up with words of encouragement, be it through comments, IMs or tweets, thank you in advance. I appreciate you more than you can possibly know.