Where to begin? I haven’t been here in quite some time. 1 year and 3 months. So, what’s been going on in all that time, you ask? Not much. And that’s why I’m writing today.
This morning I was heading to work, late as usual, and the curb totally jumped up and tripped me. It must have, the bastard, because I am known for my grace. I had a warm Diet Coke in my hands, because my husband and I never learn to replace cold drinks with warm ones in the fridge, and having only slept a few winks last night, I needed caffeine this morning. In fact, I’m about to leave my office and go get some coffee. It’s that bad today. I’ve been teaching two classes this semester, along with my full time job (or over-full-time to be honest), and today I was carrying the textbook in my backpack. Yes, at 33, I still use a backpack. They are convenient and more comfortable than any messenger bag or cute big purse – I tried so hard to look less like a student, but I have to have my backpack. The curb, with its menacing tentacles, reached up, grabbed my motorcycle boot by the harness, and smacked me into the ground. The weight of the textbook on my back propelled me forward, and without the use of my Diet Coke-holding hand, I fell into the grass, skinning up my knees and probably flashing the undergrads in trucks who were driving by. I hope I gave them a good laugh.
I immediately thought, well, this is going to be one of those days.
Recently, I’ve been, not despondent (seems too harsh), but dissatisfied with how “things” are going. Most of the “things” are things I can actually change. Of course, there are always money conversations – who doesn’t have those? – but I feel drained of life all the time, like I am just a faceless android going through the motions. I find myself not wanting to leave my house on the weekends, like not even wanting to step outside. It is incredibly hard to get out of the bed in the morning during the week, resulting in me always being late. I see photos of people on Facebook who are hiking in the Ozarks, which are maybe 3 hours from me, and I immediately think that I want to do that too. But then the questions in my head start (How much gas would I need to buy? What do we do with the dogs? What if a crazy inbred cannibal murder family gets us? How much does it cost to stay in a cabin?), and I convince myself that doing those things are for grown-ups, people with money and time off. At what point does one feel grown up? Because I certainly don’t, even though at 33 I should. I don’t have children, I have a job, I have a house, a husband, a furry family, but because I have no savings, no ability to go on vacation, no real hobbies (photography for me has become less a hobby and more a job, unfortunately), no exercise regimen, I feel like half of a person. Like the productive me is somewhere else, in a different dimension. I know she exists, but I can’t find her.
So, when I fell this morning, I kinda thought “Well, that should be my low point, right?” because I really didn’t want to get up. I wanted to crawl somewhere and hide – not out of embarrassment because I’ve fallen quite a bit over the years – but out of exhaustion. Sure, I am whining now. I have shelter and food and a family. It’s not bad, it’s good! But for me, dissatisfaction is a poison that spreads into all aspects of my life, and I need to get rid of it somehow.
I know I’ve used this blog for goal-setting before, and while I did actually accomplish some of those items (I did two presentations at international conferences in my field instead of a paper, I started living primally for the most part, and I increased my photography portfolio), I still lack the exercise and mindfulness goals. I’m going to focus on these two over the next month to see if my productivity and happiness increases.
I’ll leave you now with my favorite new character on television: