motivational monday.Monday, January 27, 2014
Last week so many things went to hell and I, not knowing what else to do, did what I've become used to doing in such situations: I gave up. My inner self gave my drive and hardworking self the boot and in came the mess (which, if you need a visual, is me in a Hello Kitty robe, intermittently crying and devouring Ben & Jerry's ice cream while taking very long naps and wondering why the universe hates me). It was a work thing, it was a money thing, it was a saying goodbye to Jojo thing, it was a why is life so fucking hard despite how much I try and try thing.
Fact of the matter is, life has been stagnant at the most horrible moments and I was absolutely stuck feeling as if there was no end in sight. Regina Spektor wasn't kidding, standing still really is hard--especially when there is nothing to look forward to. It may have taken me a Doctor Who marathon, some crappy eating, and about 13 hours of sleep, but it finally hit me.
I knew better than this. I was better than this. You'd think I was heading to retirement the way I’d been living the past year: baseline, just breathing and existing for the sake of it. Did I really work this hard, fought the odds, to be stuck HERE? Of all places? I was going to give up now? Fold? Because it was all too hard? Because I'd become lazy? Because I'd become comfortable? All because I stopped caring.
It was about time I started pushing myself again. Restart the engines. Get myself back on track. Back to searching out fun and inspiration and pushing myself to learn new things and skills. I used to dream up creations and parties and photo-shoots and brainstorm with friends for hours about it. I was smart and careful and fearless and hardworking and never ever gave up. I wasn't behind, I was ahead, making my own path toward the life that I wanted. I didn't need anyone's opinion because my knowledge and experience and self-confidence was all that I needed; I had calculated everything leading up to that given decision with care and diligence. I didn't only dream of a certain life, I worked toward it.
Where did this amazing girl go? How did I let so much outside influence get in and take the reins?
The fact of the matter is, I don't have Manolos or the prettiest face or the largest checkbook or the most glamorous life or the most experience job-wise. And I'll probably never ben more than a poor girl who has to work twice as hard to prove that she has every right to be here (& even still will sometimes feel like she doesn't). But do you know what? None of that matters, and it makes me sad that, to me--even for a short while, it ever did. Because I do belong here. I am smart. And I’ve spent too much time, working this hard, to give up now.
I am in no way content with a baseline, lazy, uninspired life. It's about time I woke up from my hibernation, stopped avoiding it all and did something about this mess. Because it's just not cutting it anymore. So enough of the wishing and hoping and half-assing it, and caring about what other people think. Of wishing life were easier or comprehensible or not a daily battle. Because it is and always has been. Somewhere along the way I just stopped strategizing and fighting for it.
And enough of being content with a less than extraordinary life and waiting for one to drop out of the sky. It won’t. It's time to start dreaming and fighting and working toward extraordinary things. It’s time to start making my own path again.
Admittance in the first step, right?