“Wow, I’m really good at lying to myself.”
– Katherine Bacher
I may have made some serious miscalculations for myself. As with most people, I’m afraid I haven’t quite stuck to my guns with my New Year’s Resolutions. Hopefully those of you out on the Interwebs have fared far better than I.
Precious Readers, I have failed you. Which is worse than failing myself. Although they’re only separated by a 1/8 tick. I feel worse about disappointing you than lying to myself. Let’s face it, lying to ourselves always makes one feel better in the short-term. Earning your disappointment or disapproval… yikes.
Not as an excuse, but to give you an idea of where my head is at, the following has occurred in the last four months:
1. I got roped into a MAJOR PROJECT at work that required almost 100% of my attention. This included many late nights, long hours, time away from Pilot, etc. Let’s just say the entire month is a caffeine-and-carb-riddled blur of a mess where I managed to single-handedly complete a massive shipping of product generated from my job out to the masses of our clients all over the nation. I think there was a grand total of maybe 5 hours worth of conversation and eye contact spent with Pilot in that entire month. Combined. So thankful February isn’t a “real” month. That might just have de-wired my brain.
2. A co-worker passed away. Due to the nature of this individual’s situation, the family he left behind, and the infamous way he created notoriety for himself before departing from this earth, I will not go into further details. Unfortunately he leaves a young child behind, and although I empathize with that child, I did luck out in having significantly more years with my own father before he passed.
3. A dear, dear friend of mine – we’ll call her Azalea* – passed away. Her service is still being scheduled for next month. I worked with her at my previous employment and we became very good friends. She suffered from colon cancer for the last 3 years of her life, multiple bouts of chemo and radiation. When I last spoke to her, she was on an oxygen tank. She was a wife, mother, grandmother and my friend.
Azalea’s passing earlier this April has really hit me hard, and I’m ashamed to say I had quite a few meltdowns at home last week.
Let’s face it. I’ll probably have a few more.
She was more than just a co-worker to me. She was family. It brought up old feelings of losing my dad and grandma (both of whom I lost in 2007), all over again. Feelings of which I buried super, super deeply.
I hate stuff resurfacing like that. It’s like a bad carpet stain. You think it’s out of the way. When you least expect it, it pops right up again clear as day and you wonder how the hell all of the efforts you put into “out of sight, out of mind,” it’s always right below where you can see it. Lurking.
That’s right. Lurking. I’m beefing up on my verbs today.
For those of you who don’t know, I’m approaching the big 30 this year. Maybe it’s a mid-mid-life crisis, but these recent events made me realize I need to start making a LOT of changes in my life.
Foremost in my mind: Stop living to please other people.
My dear, Precious Readers, you are in the presence of a wuss. A big-
Well, not “big.” I’m not huge or anything. I’m… well… let’s just say there’s a lot to love. I have pretty wrists, decent-sized boobs for an Asian, and good hair, does that count?
-what was I saying? Oh, right.
I’m a cowardly, shy, “flight”-reactive wuss when it comes to going for my dreams.
Growing up, most of my life was pretty much planned out for me. I wasn’t a “rebel”-
Although, my parents have mentioned that I had quite the smart mouth. Maybe “smart mouth” + writer’s brain go hand-in-hand?
-I was a good girl. I ate my vegetables, brushed my (good) hair, minded my P’s and Q’s. Fared decently in school, didn’t get into trouble. Heck, I volunteered countless hours at children’s day camps, retirement homes and nursing homes.
From the womb to the tomb.
I’ve spent my whole life trying to perfect a lifestyle to meet others’ idea of success and accomplishment. To be brutally honest, leaving my last job and starting this blog are probably some of the most rebellious things I’ve ever done.
Although, I am a roller coaster junkie. Is that rebellious?
These recent events have made me ask some tough questions. Like, “Why am I so afraid?” I need to start living for me before the next 30 go by like the wind. I’ve spent a large portion of my 20’s depressed, and I think it’s mostly due to the fact at my incredible ability to deflect and ignore what’s actually important to me.
The reason? It’s simple, my Precious Readers. Fear.
It’s not difficult to figure out. Seriously. It’s 100% Fear.
Fear of disappointing those I love.
Fear of failure.
Feeling unworthy/undeserving of my true dreams; that my parents are right, and “an artsy job” will not pay the bills and I’ll end up homeless.
Although I’d never sell my laptop. There’s free wi-fi everywhere. I’d make do. I can’t live without access to my books (and yes, I have TONS of real books, too), cat videos and online cooking channels. YouTube** and Kindle** are my late-night best friends.
I’m sure most of those who are in my Daily Life and Real Life will tell me I’m crazy.
I don’t care anymore.
I’m sick of caring about what people tell me to care about.
I want to care about the things that keep circling around in my head over and over, to which I respond with the word “someday.” I’m tired of “someday.”
Someday can kiss my ass. It’s already kicked it for 30 years.
It may take me a while to accomplish my bucket list life goals, but I have faith that God will give me the strength to truly move forward, stop being afraid about what other people think.
Also, that He’ll boot me on the butt when I’m getting lazy about it, ensuring I at least try with everything that I have.
I hope this post encourages you to go after what you think your purpose is.
It’s too short, people. Life is just too damn short.
*This name has been changed to protect the privacy of the individual and their family.
**Not endorsed by YouTube or Kindle. Any statements made about these two applications are the opinion of my own free will and not a reflection of those company’s points of view.