Hello friends. I’m back, and not entirely sure who still cares to pay me a visit here. I’ve been itching to blog again for a while now, but adulting has not been easy. My initial hiatus was the outcome of some self reflection on life. I can’t pinpoint when exactly it happened, but blogging began to feel like a chore. I often flip back a few years to relive some of my days and I remember how effortless it felt to just type.
As I got older, somewhat wiser, I think I felt obligated to write something more meaningful. Silly me. No one cares. It’s not like my blog is listed on the top 100 list of pages to follow. Nobody follows a nobody, but that feeling of obligation added an unnecessary stress to my life. I needed a break. So here I am now… Laying in bed and trying not to overthink and perfect every word in every sentence of every paragraph.
My title hardly reflects anything I’ve typed thus far, so here are the cliff notes to the wonderful, yet stressful events of my life in relations to adulting:
1. Finally feeling like I have a purpose at my new job.
2. Getting engaged and needing to plan a wedding.
3. After several delays, the new home is so, so close to being done. I have never loved yet hated shopping so much.
4. Managing my expenses because I definitely need to do that more often now.
5. Trying to juggle time between family, friends, my other half and myself.
Prepare yourself friends. I’m coming back.
It’s funny how life works sometimes. One day you’re thinking about potentially going down a new path, and the next you find out you might not even get a choice. Perhaps someone up there heard the struggles going on in my head and decided to implement a plan on my behalf.
At the end of the day, work is work. Surprisingly, I’m not very nervous or upset or scared. In fact, I’m sort of excited to find out what the decision is. The unknown makes life interesting. ok bye!
I’ve been feeling overwhelmingly stressed for the past two months. For the first time in my life, work is causing me to not sleep properly; I get nightmares about projects going wrong. I wake up sweaty and fatigued.
I can feel myself not being mentally there, preoccupied. I don’t want to talk to anyone. I don’t want to be engaged in conversations. I have a short fuse. All I want to do is gym, watch TV, and read (things that take me out of my reality and into a different one).
No, I’m not looking to be somewhere without challenges, but challenges shouldn’t be stressful if you’re doing something you genuinely love, right? Sadly, what I love won’t help me make a living. /bye
The injuries won’t stop coming. Just when I start to feel better with my back, something else decides to bail on me.
I wish I had a more insightful blog to keep the monthly streak alive, but I’ve been trying to lay off the computer and/or reducing time spent on the computer to prevent aggravating my wrist more than it already is. Perhaps this is a sign of old age. Since turning 29 this month hasn’t really hit me mentally or emotional… I guess somebody decided to make me feel something physically instead?
Or, maybe it’s a sign for me to stop pushing myself past my limits. But… no pain, no gain. Game face, strong. There is no room for weakness in front of my enemies (read: surrounding humans). /bye
“The world is filled with people who, no matter what you do, will point blank not like you. But it is also filled with those who will love you fiercely. They are your people. You are not for everyone and that’s OK.”
I came across these words today and I think it might just be the best thing I read all year. And what better way to end 2015 than with this short, yet powerful message to remind us that it’s OK to not be liked.
I realize how negative that sounded on the surface and how it should be common sense to any reasonably-minded person, but reading it randomly in passing somehow made me breathe a huge sigh of relief. It’s OK to not be liked.
I think too often, we don’t spend enough time with ourselves. And too often, we don’t spend enough time with those who love us fiercely. 2016 will be the year where I learn to love myself more and learn who will love me despite all the bumps on the road. /year
I can’t shake this feeling off.
I was always aware, but now it feels as though you’re breathing down my neck and watching everything I do. And I’m not happy.
The sensible side of me knows to not take your words the way my mind is taking them. They are just words and they probably came out the wrong way, but them feels. They are hurting me and I don’t feel like I can be me anymore. I don’t feel like I’m loved. I feel incapable. I don’t feel like this is how things should have to feel. /bye
Pictures can be deceptive; this is not news to me. They say that some of the happiest people are often the saddest. They say that some of the prettiest girls are most insecure.
My coworkers had a long (negative) spiel this week about selfies. I’m not sure if age made a difference, but they saw two 50 year old women taking selfies together by the bar at the new Nordstrom. They “looked ridiculous” according to my coworker, “are they trying to show off, act young, or be hip”? The conversation led into the topic of an article that was published about how people live an alternate life through their photos. They take pictures of themselves and things in their life that is not who they are. People purchase bottles of Perrier water to keep in their fridge just for show, not to drink. People seriously do this?
I told them that I can’t really be bothered to understand why people do what they do. Yes, I question a lot of pictures posted by people on my social feed, but I can’t say that I care unless the pictures irk me in some way. Yes, I make comments. Yes, I secretly judge. Whether I mean any of the things I say is always up for questioning.
I, too, take selfies and post things I buy or eat. I post random shit, but I don’t think I’m lying to the world as to who I am. I’d like to think that I’m a good person at heart and if I’m happy doing what I do, then I can’t say I care how others see me. Do you? ok bye.
It’s been about three months since I started going to physiotherapy for my back and this weekend was the first time I went back under the bar since being in rehab. Lifting that bar up on my shoulder was probably the best, yet, worst feeling ever. On the one hand, I was super psyched to get the OK from my physiotherapist to attempt the bar. But on the other hand, my ego deflated faster than a balloon having gone from being able to squat 185lbs to 85lbs. I probably could have added a bit more weight, but didn’t want to risk it on the first day back.
The road to recovery is definitely not easy, both mentally and physically. You have to really put in the time and effort into doing your prescribed exercises no matter how ridiculous they look. And you really have to swallow your pride and ego with not being able to do everything that you once could. I still got a ways to go, but progress is progress and I’m pretty happy with where I’m at. I’ll eventually bounce back to be as strong as the hulk. /smash
Do you remember your first love?
It’s true what they say, that you can never forget. They were the first to fill your stomach with anxious butterflies; The first to make you shy away in happiness the moment you lock eyes; The first to keep you up all night daydreaming about the what ifs and one days; The first to break your heart into a million pieces.
How many people end up with their first love? Being first is nice, and if you’re lucky enough to be with yours, kudos. People get so caught up with that fairy tale ending, justifying the relationship (or lack of) by saying you can never feel the same way for any other. Well of course not, they were the first, and you can never recreate those first-time feelings. The rush. The excitement. The nerves.
I don’t recall ever telling my first that I loved him. Heck, we were never really together. It was complicated, but I loved him so much and for so long. I loved him when he didn’t even like me. I loved him when he toyed with my feelings. I loved him when he finally loved me back. But, the day he loved me back, was the day I learned to let go. It was the first time I cried myself to sleep wondering if I made the right decision. Perhaps I was a little over dramatic (I was a teenager after all), but my first love taught me to stand up for myself. He taught me that despite the highs, all-time lows, and first-time feelings, it eventually gets to a point where I can’t keep daydreaming that fairy tale ending. It would never have worked out.
The relationships that end up lasting are built with the first love being the foundation. They test your limits and help guide you into finding the right one. God forbid you have to cycle through more than five to get it right, but when you do… it’s worth it. And it’s worth fighting for. /theend