spinning

thoughts

Fridays through Mondays are my busiest and the most taxing days of the week. So after a whirlwind weekend, I had a minor catharsis late last night.

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I worked my usual 14 hours Friday. I woke up at 6:30 on Saturday morning for a Sporting Clays shoot. I stopped home quick to walk the dog around 1:30 before going back to work at 2 o’clock. I got out of work at 6:30 and went to my cousin’s surprise birthday party. I got home around 9 o’clock and crawled into bed. Then Sunday I had to be at a volunteer art event at 11 o’clock in the morning. I was there until 6 pm.

Yesterday I did another 12 hours between the two jobs, and it was an incredibly tough day. I didn’t realize how tough it was until I got home and the stress and worry overwhelmed me. Since the company is closing, I am now filling in for customer service.So I dealt with a lot of angry calls during the day and then I worked until 10 at the bar. I was dead tired.

Then I had a minor breakdown about dating. There are a few guys sort of lingering in my mind because either a. I feel bad for not wanting to pursue something with them, or b. I know they are wrong for me, but they are entertaining nonetheless. It’s so frustrating to not connect with people. It’s frustrating to know the relationship isn’t going anywhere before it even starts too.

I realized yesterday, that I don’t have as much fun anymore. I think dating offers a sense of adventure and fun that I am craving, but I haven’t met anyone who fits the bill. My cousin reminded me about when we were drinking quite a lot two years ago. It was pure fun. We talked and danced and drank. We were joyful and relaxed. I don’t have those truly relaxed and carefree moments anymore.

I’m spinning. That’s what it feels like… spinning around in circles. I wake up a mess and rush to work. Then I get home and I walk the dog, eat, and go back to work. It seems like everyone is worried about me. I assure them that I’ll figure it out. Which is mostly to convince myself that I will do just that.

I told my cousin, “I’m not depressed. I think I would know if I was depressed. I’m just stressed. I’m tired.” I have been depressed before, and this is not the same.

I FEEL OLD.

I shouldn’t feel old. I’m 25, and I’m burnt out by the situation I am in at work and in my personal life. I know what would make me feel less old, developing a better fitness routine. I have been saying for months that I’m going to sit down and write a reasonable program for myself, but I keep forgetting.

I definitely could have exercised tonight. I did a lot tonight. Tuesdays are my most productive day it seems. I did laundry. I washed the dishes. I scrubbed the stove-top, bathroom sink, and the counters. I picked up and organized some odds and ends that I still haven’t found proper homes for in the house. I organized and cleaned under the kitchen sink. I wrapped a Christmas present for Nora (a tractor and farm set I picked out at the shoot on Saturday). I put some clothes in a bag for the donation bin. I took out the garbage. I painted a second coat on the bathroom window casement.

Look at me doing things after having such a bad day yesterday. It’s like I turned around and took all my frustration in the things I can’t change and converted it to energy for the things I can change. I even cleaned up the storage space and the applications running on my laptop. I’m actually using it to write a blog post in bed — which is exactly the reason I bought it in the first place.

I think tomorrow I will be able to work on the bathroom window some more. I am definitely going to pick up and put down some heavy things. Gonna get back into pumping up for my health. I need to send my resume out too. I keep procrastinating because… well let’s be honest because I’m afraid to start over not knowing if I will find something I like half as much as the job I had. It’s scary. I loved what I was doing and would have loved to keep doing it. Now, I have to redefine myself.

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the monologue of relationship stress

thoughts

I’m monologue-ing again… inside my head. These are things I’ll probably never say – which sucks because I need to say them. They always boil up inside, overflowing. Everyone should say what they mean to say, admit what they want and not play with each other’s hearts. I should be honest all the time and not be afraid.

Closure is necessary. Without it the monologue never stops boiling, overflowing. How have I not learned to say what I’m thinking and call other people out on their own bullshit?

Fear.

Fear of being wrong; fear of ruining things.

Are some things better left unsaid?

the pressure to succeed

thoughts

I was sitting here ready to pour out my heart about being in a rut. I was going to say that my mission to be positive worked on my coworker, but I feel more down than ever.Then I realized that I wasn’t thinking about money. That mad me happy, like ‘Hey look at you!” Then I thought about money which made me feel bad again.

Then I stumbled upon this article from Inc.com: Why Millennials Feel More Pressure to Succeed Than Any Other Generation.

It reminded me about the times I have caught myself thinking about celebrities like Miley Cyrus, Justin Bieber, Taylor Swift, and Jennifer Lawrence. I can’t be worldwide like Taylor Swift. I can’t make as much money as her, and for some wild reason, that makes me feel inadequate.

“Why haven’t I made a life changing app or website?”

“Why haven’t I become an amazing doctor?”

“Why haven’t I made a million dollars?”

“Why haven’t I traveled the world?”

“Why isn’t my body thin and youthful and tabloid worthy?”

“Why don’t I have an Oscar?”

“Why don’t I have a platinum record?”

Comparing myself to celebrities seems downright unbalanced.

Maybe Tay-Tay has been on a world tour, but have she ever caught a trout along the river or had a black bear walk by her in the woods?

Probably not.

The author of the article I mentioned wrote that, “it was the shame of feeling like I haven’t done enough with my life … and that time is running out.” The funny part is that the author was talking about this feeling upon turning 30. I feel like this, and I’m only 23.

However, there is something to look at in the successes of the “rich and famous” which is that they have dedicated their lives to their work in a way that I will probably never understand. My one true complaint is that I wish I could have found my passion and the path to making money from it when I was 13. That would have been real nice.