C’est la vie

I’m not really even sure why I’m writing this post. All I know is that I’m wandering around my house doing typical “Monica” things (a.k.a. compulsive cleaning) and I’m basically writing this post in my head, so I figured I’d head to my computer and see what comes out.

That’s the beauty of having my own blog. I can write about whatever the hell I feel like.

Let’s start here.

I’m making a concerted effort to be more positive – scratch that – more calm about things in my life. After the last two years I’ve had, it’s time. I won’t bore you with details about everything that stressed me out, but just know that I went through some things that changed me. Changes I didn’t particularly like. I felt a bit out of control of many things that I thought I had a handle on.

I was wrong. What to do when there are things you can’t control? Pick the things you can, and micromanage the shit out of them. Well, that works for a while but it will eventually burn you up.

What I aim for now more than ever is a sense of calm. Peace. Stillness. Breath. That’s what will save you from a million moments of stress, anxiety, and anger.

I could let myself get worked up over things that I don’t feel are fair, but it would be a waste.

It comes down to this – “C’est la vie.”

If you don’t like something about your life, change it. If you can’t, change the way you think about it. Anger, anxiety, and the blame game won’t get you anywhere. Nine times out of ten, it will burn you, and you still won’t be happy.

C’est la vie is freeing. Try it on for size. I did, and you know what? It’s a perfect fit.


I’ve been alive for 29 years

It’s my birthday today which means I get to do what I want. So while my husband runs to the grocery store to pick up a small birthday cake, I’m blogging.

As my birthday approached this year, I thought about the number. Twenty-nine. There’s nothing too special about it, except that it’s a year closer to the “big 3-0.” For some people, launching into the next decade is scary – thirties, forties, fifties, and so on.

Not for me. For some reason, I can’t wait to be older. Maybe it’s because I’ve always felt older than I am chronologically. Not in the my-body-is-decrepit sort of way. The whole “old soul” thing. That’s me. My age is trying to catch up with my soul.

But I will say that my 29th year is bringing with it some questions, big and small.

The smaller ones being things like:

Will I really get back into yoga and stick with it? (Maybe it’s an excuse to buy more yoga pants and wear them every. single. day.)

Will I let my hair grow long and not cut it off? (I hope so.)

Will I find a way to shave my legs so that they stay smooth for longer than a day? (Not likely.)

And then the bigger ones which I don’t have easy answers to:

Will I be able to find a “just right” job again?

Will I ever again feel comfort and confidence in my career?

Am I old enough yet for this meme to apply?

getting old

And then this one:

Will 29 be the year that I become a mom?

(Pause for a moment of silence.)

Well, on that note, my old soul is about to enjoy some birthday cake.


Is thinking this much normal?

Don’t answer that. I don’t want to know. I’m a thinker, a questioner, a ponderer, a does-this-make-sense, and a is-this-the-right-thing kind of person. I think it goes hand-in-hand with being an introvert. Generally, I’ve accepted it as who I am and I’m okay with it.

Until I start thinking (see what I mean?) about what I would do with all the extra time I would have if I didn’t think so much. Would I have time for a new hobby? A second job? Would I talk to people more if I wasn’t so in my head all the time?

I don’t know. Maybe it’s normal. Maybe it’s not. Today, I got to thinking about all the thinking I do, which I know is basically the definition of metacognition (an awareness and understanding about one’s own thought processes). But, it just seems to be getting a little out of hand….

Like when I get a new sticker that tells me when my jeep is due for another oil change, and I start to think about how different my life will be three months from now. Because obviously my life is SO wild that it’ll be noticeably different in just three months time….yeah right. But it doesn’t stop me from thinking about it.

Or when I hear an old song on the radio and I think about what I was up to when I used to hear it all the time. I know lots of people do this, but why can’t it just be a song and not make me contemplate life?

Or when I’m writing a text, or worse yet, an email, and I think about what I’m saying and if the person/people reading it will hear it the same way I’m saying it. I have to think about each word, where it goes, which punctuation mark is around it, delete, move it over, delete again, and on and on. It’s quite the process.

Or when I have conversations with myself in my head and they feel so real that I swear I’ve had the conversation with another human. I’ll continue the conversation with my husband sometimes, thinking he was there for part one, but I’ll see his what-the-f-look and then I’ll remember, “ohhh yeah, that wasn’t you.”

And oh, aren’t decisions fun! Should I, shouldn’t I? When should I? What if I don’t? Thinking through  e v e r y  detail, and no doubt consulting myself on the issue. And what if the decision turns out not to be the best one? Then I develop trust issues with myself. Fun doesn’t cover it.

And how my thinking is random and doesn’t even make sense sometimes. When I start with the shirt I picked out to wear tomorrow and what was happening in my life the last time I wore it, and that will somehow remind me we need more dog food, which somehow leads me to think about my college days. It’s bizarre but I’ll spend hours doing it.

I feel like it’s coming down to this….will I be able to make your party, or come visit, or make plans for the summer? I don’t know. Let me check my schedule. I may have too much thinking to do.

Normal or not, at least now it’s documented.

(Great. Now I have to think about THAT.)

Gotta go.