falling short.

I've been MIA lately. For those of you who actually read my blog, I apologize. Work has been a bit hectic lately and we've been redoing our living room/dining room and trying to get some sleep in between.

On to the title of this post... falling short. This is a sentiment I've been feeling for quite some time, 6 years to be exact (just after my dad died and I felt like the world had come crashing down on me), and while I'm usually pretty good at not letting myself over think this feeling, I've had a lot of trouble doing so lately. When nothing is going right, when you feel like you're trying to do everything possible to live up to these crazy expectations you've set for yourself and you're never quite able to, when you see other people accomplishing their goals and living their dreams (even if you've accomplished some pretty amazing things yourself) you start to think to yourself, why can't I do that, and it becomes difficult to refrain from being hard on yourself, and thinking constantly that you're not good enough and you're always falling short.

So here I sit on my Pottery Barn sectional (I've always wanted one of these because 1. they are the most comfortable things in the world and 2. because I wanted to be able to say that I have a Pottery Barn couch - this is one of those crazy expectations I set for myself, I'm willing to admit, because having one seemed like a right of passage, and I wanted to be in the club - absolutely ridiculous right?) in my running clothes (somehow I mustered enough mental energy to take that step) wondering how I'm going to convince my depressed, over emotional self to go for a run and wondering how to pull myself out of this funk.

What am I doing wrong? Why does it seem like I can never anything right? Does my PB Comfort really make me as happy as I thought it would, especially since it's a lot lighter than what I really wanted (fail). Why does weightloss on my part require eating pickles and celery and working out for an hour everyday - to see a .5lb weight loss at the end of the week and why does it matter how much I weigh? Why do I have to care so much? Why is there something wrong with just about everything in my house? Why is that just when I start to feel good about myself and start to have the feeling that something is finally going right, something goes wrong? Why does it see like in everything I do, I fall short?

On top of all of this, my in-laws are not speaking to me. That is one hell of a long story which I won't bore you with but to be honest, I'm not exactly sure what I did to deserve this treatment especially after being verbally attacked by them and having them question my upbringing. It hasn't been pretty to say the least. It's complicated and hubs and I have been going to counseling to deal with it - that's how difficult it's gotten. This situation obviously wouldn't make anyone feel that great, and has only added to the self-inflicted stress I'm feeling about all aspects of my life.

Why can't I just be happy. I know that no one can be completely happy every day of their life but I would say that I'm unhappy more often than not. I just can't seem to do anything right. It's always almost right, but not quite right. I don't want to be unhappy. I want to enjoy myself, my house, my husband, my friends and my family but that is extremely difficult when you feel like you just don't measure up, you're always falling short.

Thanks for listening (reading). I apologize that my first post in weeks is something so depressing. Hopefully soon I will be able to post pictures of the living room/dining room re-do... that is, if nothing else goes wrong...

I'll cry if I want to...

lI'm starting to think I'm not very good at this life thing. I thought I had gotten better at it after I finished school which was an extremely rough time and not one I really want to go into right now. I was excited to have free time. I was excited to get a job, be able to take up new hobbies, buy a house and decorate, the list goes on and on.

I'm exhausted. I feel like I'm having a mental breakdown of sorts. Recently my boss has been giving me some trouble. He's one of those types who refuses to retire but probably should have retired by now. He's forgetful, he's getting slower and he's Type A with a need to have his shakey hand in every project. Needless to say, it's been difficult dealing with him, especially lately. I'm feeling some pressure on the project I'm leading and tirelessly trying to stay on schedule, with not much help from my boss who ultimately needs sign off on what I'm doing.

So, I come home exhausted, feeling upset and defeated. I have no energy to Shred (it's been 5 days - so much for 30 day shred), I eat cereal for dinner and I look around my house and get depressed about it's current state - the bedroom wall that needs a second coat of paint, the laundry that still needs to be folded and put away, the 30 year old coffee table and end tables we "inherited", projects I've started and have found no time to finish. I accidentally dropped a pack of tissues on the floor last week and for some reason haven't had the energy or found the time to pick them up... pathetic right?

I'm in need of a mental health day week. I need to re-motivate myself. I need to feel rejuvenated. That unfortunately doesn't look like it's going to happen any time soon. I know I should just pick myself up, dust myself off and get over it, but I gave that a try and I failed. So until someone surprises me with vacation, pity party it is.

live a little!

I did a lot of thinking sitting on the beach staring out at the waves. A lot of reading and a lot of thinking. The two books I read (yes, I actually started and finished 2 books - miracle I tell you) on vacation sort of hit home in a way and helped me make some realizations regarding my life. Reading the books made me realize that I've, too often, allowed other people dictate how I felt, thought, wanted to look, etc. whether subconsciously or not. I feel like it's been an inner struggle, for lack of a better word, to figure out who I am or who I want to be. I've always looked at what other people were wearing, how other people were acting, what everyone else was talking about, and what other people were doing. I felt like, in a way, I had to conform to some set of rules or guidelines in order to feel like I fit in and figure out who I was - and in doing so, I didn't take as much time as I should have to look around, take it all in and enjoy life a little.

The first book I read, "Pretty in Plaid" made me realize that there is much more to life than "fitting in" or conforming to any one thing and that the key to happiness is simply being yourself, not trying to "keep up with the Joneses" and by letting yourself live a little! The book is written by an absolutely hilarious woman who has documented and recounted her life, the ups and downs and in betweens, her jobs, her college experiences, her issues with weight, by what she was wearing. She describes how she felt in particular articles of clothing, what the clothes meant to her, and how other people reacted to what she was wearing and while it seemed that she let others dictate somewhat, things she bought (buying a Coach purse because other sorority rushees did), how she acted, etc., it was evident that during each and every step she was able to fully embrace who she was and simply allowed herself to be happy and enjoy life. What resonated with me was what a strong individual she was. Early on she knew who she was and she didn't let anything get in her way or affect what kind of person she wanted to become. She didn't let others define her. She lived, loved and laughed and was a better person for it!

The second book, "The Book of Awesome" is a series of 1-2 page stories or descriptions about things in life that are just plain awesome! This couldn't have been a more perfect book to read after "Pretty in Plaid". Where "Pretty in Plaid" made me realize that I need to live a little and laugh a lot more, "The Book of Awesome" gave me the opportunity to actually step back and smell the roses, to realize that it really is the little things in life that make it all worthwhile, and that what other people think, say, or do, shouldn't matter. What matters really is the little things and it's the little things that make you the happiest! The cold side of the pillow, the feeling of your feet in the sand, the smell of gasoline, a freshly opened jar of peanut butter. These are the things that matter. These are things that make us the happiest. I think I've unfortunately taken these things for granted. I've been so busy that I haven't had a chance to realize the importance of these little things in my life. I've gotten so caught up in the details, trying to make sure my house is clean and my car loan is paid on time that I've forgotten to find happiness in the little things.

All in all, pretty eye-opening vacation. I learned a lot about myself in a matter of days just by slowing down, taking a look around and simply living a little!

fulfilled. or not.

fulfil/fulfillment – To fill up; To satisfy, carry out, bring to completion (an obligation, a requirement, etc.); To emotionally or artistically satisfy; to develop one’s gifts to the fullest. A feeling of satisfaction at having achieved your desires.

There have been countless nights I’ve gone to bed feeling not quite fulfilled or satisfied; feeling like something is missing. It could be that I started feeling this way after my dad passed away 6 years ago or it could just be me. It may be a combination of the two, but most likely, it’s just me.

There certainly is no clear reason why I should feel unfulfilled. I have a husband I adore, a house that needs work, but a house none the less, a crazy but lovable dog, an amazing family, a job and a plasma tv. I graduated number one in my graduate school class in a field I love (or at least loved while I was in school – who doesn’t feel slightly unfulfilled in their job, right?), married my high school sweetheart, and bought my first car. All things that should point to fulfillment. Right? Wrong.

It must be the way I’m programmed. I always have to be busy. I always have to be trying something new and I’m always looking for the next adventure or room to paint. It’s exhausting! When I’m not doing something, or when I’m sitting idle, I feel unfulfilled. My experiments with new things are a plenty and I’ve started many tasks with the intention of finishing them… I just can’t sit still and I’m not capable of relaxing.

Sometimes I wonder if having a baby would actually be good for me. All the preparation that goes into having a baby – setting up the nursery, shopping for clothing, diapers, bottles, strollers, thinking up baby names – would actually keep me busy (something that makes me feel fulfilled) and focused and once the baby arrives, there will be no time to sit idle; busy would probably not even begin to describe my days. How could a little life, depending on me for everything; food, clothing, shelter, love, not make me feel fulfilled? I don’t believe there is anything else in the world that could make anyone feel any more fulfilled than that! I think I’m more than ready (and excited) for these changes and I’m optimistic, no, certain that the level of fulfillment I’d feel each and every night I put that little baby to bed would be through the roof.

I’m not sure my inability to sit still or my desire to constantly be busy is a bad thing. I’m not sure it’s a good thing. I’m also not sure a baby is the solution, or if there even is a solution.

What I do know is that it’s tiring feeling unfulfilled and tiring trying to make myself feel fulfilled, that pregnancy and motherhood would keep me busy and that busy, for me, equals fulfillment. I’m positive that a child would bring quite a bit of fulfillment to my life and I look forward to it, him, her, more and more each and every day.

everyone's doing it! (no pun intended)

Everywhere I look, I see babies. Friends are having babies left and right. Baby bumps are showing up in facebook statuses almost daily and “Baby at 3 months”, “Baby at 4 months”, “Baby at 6 months” albums flood my news feed. I receive emails from friends about baby showers, name suggestions and dilation measurements and questions from family and friends about when we think we’ll have children. It takes all I have each day to not think about how much I want a baby.

All my life, I’ve felt the tug of peer pressure. Nothing too major or overly serious like jumping off bridges or skipping school. More like a tug to “keep up with the Joneses”. A few years ago two friends of ours got married. They were the first, but certainly not the last. Their wedding set the ball rolling for couple after couple to get engaged and married and within a matter of a few years it seemed that each of our friends had joined the club. The feeling that” everyone’s doing it” seems to fuel the urge to be the first or the next and seems ever present in the battle of the bump, at least from where I’m standing. After all, first comes love, then comes marriage then comes… that’s right, the baby carriage.

My husband and I have always seemed to take things rather slow… some of it has been purposely whether we had spoken about it or not, and some of it has been pressure from family I’m sure, but, it was years 9 years before we lived with each other and 10 years before he placed a ring on my finger (to be fair, we started dating when we were 16). My husband and I always seemed to have different goals and ideas for our future than our friends, not that they weren’t interested in being successful or traveling the world, but they seemed quick to finish school and “start their lives”, get married, buy a house, get a dog, etc. We, on the other hand, decided to continue on to graduate school, both graduating with Master’s degrees and therefore, “starting our lives” and buying a dog a bit later than the others. You’ve probably guessed by now – we were one of the last couples to get married.

I’ve always felt behind in a way when I’ve looked at the lives of our friends – perfectly decorated houses, nice cars, and baby on the way. Don’t get me wrong, I’m completely thrilled and couldn’t be happier for them, but I often have to remind myself that it’s not a race, that everything happens for a reason and that things will happen when it’s time. What I’ve recently started to realize, is that when it does happen, when we do have our first child, it will be perfect because it will be how and when we want it to happen and not just because everyone else was doing it.