“I’m waiting for my real life to begin” ~Colin Hay
In just a few short weeks I will be changing over from the world of two small kids to three small kids. Most people wouldn’t want to speed this up, relishing in the smaller family world for just a few more moments. But for me, this couldn’t be further from the the truth. It’s not so much that I’m ready to be stretched thinner than I already I. It’s simply that I’m ready to get my life back.
I get it, really I do. I’ve had my fair share of fertility problems, more than I care to even admit. I understand that being pregnant is a gift that not everyone gets to receive. But that doesn’t mean I like it. I can’t wait for baby #3 to get here. I love feelings her kick and move. I’m ready for her to become the piece to put our family puzzle together.
But for the most part I really hate being pregnant. And I can guarantee you this is not about the wine. I hate not being able to eat certain foods simply because they *might* cause some sort of harm. I hate choking down my three pre-natal vitamins every day (and therefor become horribly constipated), I hate not being able to sleep more than an hour at a time because I need to pee, or simply roll over relieving some pressure on my hips, I hate not being able to wear real pants, I hate being tired ALL THE TIME, I hate not being able to run, I hate not being able to breathe, I hate not being able to take real medicine when I’m sick, and I really hate waiting.
I’m ready to get my life back together.
I’m ready to get this party started because I can already tell it’s going to be a hell of a good time.
“The beauty is that through disappointment you can gain clarity, and with clarity comes conviction and true originality.” ~Conan O’Brien
Do you have have those moments of clarity, you know, the ones where you are pretty sure you understand everything within the universe in an uncomplicated way?
Very rarely do these creep up on me, but today one did. And what my moment of clarity brought me is the realization that I pretty much suck in all aspects of my world these days. I’m a horrible wife, an exasperated mother, a bored teacher, and an unmotivated runner. All I seem to want to do these days is eat, read, watch TV, and sleep and I rarely get the time to do any of these things.
I realize I’m causing a great disservice to most of the people around me. I know what I should be doing, how I should be reacting, the effort I should be making and yet, I don’t (or I can’t).
Every night I make these grandiose plans and promises to myself that I’m going to do better, be better. I’m not going to reply to every word spoken to me with sarcasm and contempt. I’m not going to yell. I am going to try my hardest. I am going to put forth at least a little effort. I’m going to put down the <insert food here> and get up and MOVE.
And yet, no matter how many times I have made these promises to myself, I have yet to keep them. I wake up in a mood because of sheer exhaustion or because I simply don’t want to go to work and I immediately take it out on those around me. No one is safe. I always want it to be different, but it never is.
But the miracle is that every night I get to make that promise to myself and every morning I get to try and keep it.
Here we go…
“Good intentions never change anything. They only become a deeper and deeper rut.” ~Joyce Meyer
I’ve just turned 34 and I’m no better at this than I was at 24. I make lists. I make plans. I identify things that need changing. I’m proud of myself. I’m able to take the first step. Sometimes I’m even able to take the second step. I stick with it, for a day, maybe a week.
And then nothing.
I don’t know what it is. I decided just one day off is ok. I decide I need a break. I decide, for whatever arbitrary reason, that I deserve a break. Or I lose my cool. Or I break my promise. And my one day turns into two, or three, and then, inevitably forever.
Why is it sometimes I can do it and sometimes I can’t? Where in my brain is the motivation cortex? The place that is supposed to help me keep going and reach my goals even when I want to quit.
I could blame the pregnancy right now and it would be so easy. I’m exhausted and uncomfortable and will be for the next 2 months. But that would be taking the easy way out because in reality, I was like this long before I became pregnant and long before I had two rambunctious boys to take care of. I feel like I’ve always been of the “lazier” variety, of the “blame everyone but me” variety, of the “let’s make excuses” variety. And as much as I make the conscious effort NOT be like this, I always end up right back here at the starting line.
But I can’t stop, right? As I do at the beginning of every month I have to believe that this month will be different, that this is the month where everything will finally stick and I will emerge victorious and transformed. No more excuses.
The first step, no matter how many times you have taken it in the past, is always the hardest.