How to begin…I’m not even sure considering this isn’t a topic I generally like to discuss with anyone, let alone the entirety of cyber space. This is where you say, “Yeah, right. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be writing about it.” Well, let’s just consider this self-imposed therapy. I’ve hit a wall that I’ve come to time and time and time again in my life and can never seem to get myself over it. That stops now. This is me trying to climb that wall and finally get myself over the top and to the other side. The climb will be long, hard, and I will possibly slip and fall back to the ground again. But, I’ve decided to enlist the help of the world (metaphorically speaking) to get me back up and over top of it.
You see, I suffer from intense anxiety and depression. It’s got nothing to do with my life. If you ask me, my life is pretty darn perfect. No, really. It is. I have such an amazing person that I’ve been blessed with the opportunity to spend the rest of my life with. My husband is not only my rock, my helping hand, and my own personal cheerleader (sorry honey, cheer person??), but he is my best friend. Cheesy, I know. But true. He’s the first person I go to for advice, to tell about my day, to vent to, and he’s the one person I can spend infinite amount of time with and never be bored – even when that time is spent merely being in each other’s presence, not talking. Which, trust me when I say, is practically impossible for me. I get bored extremely easily. I also have three phenomenal children. And all with such unique and exquisite personalities. They are by far and always will be my greatest creations. They give me such purpose. They make me want to be a better me. They make me look at the world through entirely different lenses and help me to capture the simplicity and beauty that God intends us to see – that His children always notice but us adults, with our crazy need to always be moving, often look over and forget.
There are always life’s little imperfect moments; more month at the end of the money, the random school functions that require funds that always happen when you don’t have them, the car breaking down at the very worst possible moment, the almost daily arguments I have with my 4 year old involving his stubbornness against doing what he is told, the fussy baby moments when nothing is going right and you already have a headache, and the small hints of pre-teen attitude already coming from your almost 8 year old. You know. Life. These things happen to everyone. I don’t look at these as taking anything away from the perfectness of my life. I’d say I’m pretty darn blessed. I’ve got it good. And I love my life.
However, aside from life’s perfection and wonderful blessings, I struggle on a very regular basis to just be positive. I struggle seeing myself in a positive light. Whether it’s based on body image, personal attempts at success, achieving small goals, or just completing a project, I find it hard to appreciate anything I do. It’s very hard to describe. I’m happy. I’m thankful. Every night before I go to bed, I thank God for His gracious blessings to me and my family. I thank Him for this glorious life He has provided me. Yet, through all of that thankfulness, I find myself just blah. That’s the best way I can describe it. Blah. Void of the ability to truly enjoy life and just how good I’ve got it. It’s not everyday. Sometimes, I can go months without feeling it. Sometimes, I go months just feeling it. And for no reason. Seriously. And the blah gets in the way of everyday life. Example: I feel blah today. I don’t get the dishes done because I can’t get the motivation to do them. Husband comes home. Dishes aren’t done. While he says nothing about it, I end up beating myself up over it. Tear myself down because I didn’t get them done. Now, there’s a bigger mess to tackle tomorrow. Puts me even further into blah mode. Vicious cycle on repeat. Get it?
I used to be a people person. I was one of those people who could go up and talk to anybody. Total strangers. I could strike up a conversation with someone I’d never before met and end up talking for hours. And it didn’t matter their age. Now, I get physically ill just thinking of the possibility of having to meet new people or even be around acquaintances. I do believe that this has a lot to do with the fact that I’ve shut myself off from society in a fashion. I’ve been out of the working world for four years now, and in that time, I’ve noticed my ability to be around other people in a confident manner completely dissipate. Sure, I could go out, find ways to meet people. Join a group at church. Make friends. Yadda yadda yadda. You bet! Just let me finish horking up my lunch over here while I muster up the courage to walk out my front door and wander into a group of total strangers that I’ll spend the next hour fearing they don’t like me or that I’m not good enough to be their friend. Then, I’ll spend the next two weeks wracking my brain over what I should’ve said different, or assuming I know exactly what they thought of me and swearing I’ll never go again so I don’t have to torture myself or anyone else. Yeah, I’ll get right on that.
Ludicrous, right? Even typing it now I’m thinking, “Geez, lady! Get over yourself! What an insane banana you are!” But, that’s my life in my mind. On repeat. I’m always afraid I’m not good enough. I get excited about doing things; the prospect of new adventures, new friends. Then, my brain catches up. All three of my children had that one blankey. You know, the one that if you wash it, they’re standing screaming and crying at the washer the entire time and then ugly crying by the time it hits the dryer? My blankey is my house, my children, and my husband. They are my safe zone. My comfort zone. The box I never want to step out of.
It’s time to step out of that box. I have to. If I don’t, I fear the blah that hangs over my head constantly reminding me that I’m not like other people – that I will never be – will take me under. And I’m not sure which time will be the last. Which time the blah will come in and move everything else out for good. I’m not talking suicide here people. I’m merely talking the inability to be happy no matter the circumstances.
I haven’t posted in quite a while. I’d love to say it’s because I’ve been deep in sewing projects or busy crafting some super cool thingamajiggy. It’s not. I’ve been super busy being blah. After many hours/days/weeks of thought, I’ve decided it’s past time for me to do something to change my life. I’ve got to do something to hold myself accountable. That’s where you (the imaginary people of cyber space) come in. I need someone besides myself to hold me accountable. And not my husband either, cause bless his heart, he’d try to make me feel better by feeding me chocolates and mimosas. And those are definitely nice, but not what is going to fix this.
I’m going to start by proving to myself I’m capable and worth more than I believe. I often get so excited about things I want to sew, only to feel that they really aren’t that stellar once completed. I end up comparing my work to someone else’s work they’ve been doing for years. I have to start comparing myself to myself. The quote I am going to start living by is this:
So, in the spirit of self-progression reflecting self-worth, I am going to challenge myself to starting, completing, and posting one new sewing project every week for an entire year. 52 weeks. 52 sewing projects. I want to be able to look back in a year and see all that I’ve accomplished, learned, and how I’ve bettered my sewing. I would’ve been more zealous in challenging myself with one a day, but that would’ve ended disastrously. I know me. I would use this blog as a forum for holding me accountable. Don’t let the masses down, etc. And when the first day came that I couldn’t complete the mission, I’d tear myself up over it. I’d concentrate on the failure and nothing more. Looking at myself as an accomplishment instead of a failure is key here, so I’m shooting for a much more realistic goal.
I will be pushing myself in this next year to do much more than just the sewing projects. I am determined to get involved with a group of people. I will focus more on putting myself out there. And I will concentrate on lifting myself up instead of tearing myself down, all in an effort to burn out every last ember of blah until there is nothing of it left but a distant memory. And I will document it all on here. The good, the bad, and the truthfully ugly. I want to challenge you as well. If you’re like me and have trouble with the blah – with seeing yourself in such an unflattering light – join me in snuffing out the blah. Together, we can lean on each other to get ourselves through this and get up and over that wall.
I’m turning 30 in nine days, and I am extremely excited for that. The past essentially twenty years has been an uphill battle against the blah. I’m determined to make the next twenty plus utterly fabulous!