By Marie Bombeck
Disclaimer: I wrote this twice. The first time it turned into a negative rant. It should have been a page in a diary, not a blog post. I had a bad week. Ok, maybe a bad week and a half. Or two weeks… but who’s counting? Anyways, on Friday night I sat down to write and what came out was awful. Not bad writing awful, but really negative. It was a real downer. I had my husband read it and his exact words were: “Marie, you can’t post this.” He was right. It was a vent session. It wasn’t anything that would benefit anyone else but me. I couldn’t figuratively rip a page out of my diary and call it a post. So I let myself decompress. I let the post sit another week. And now I came back to it. So here is the tame version of what I have to say. After my awful week, I collapsed on the couch Friday night. There was something I couldn’t get out of my head: Nobody told me that adulthood could be so, well, awful. I thought adults were supposed to be as close to perfect as you can get. They went to work and they didn’t make mistakes. Yes, I know they were human. But once you hit a certain age, wasn’t it all supposed to fall into place? Well, it really hasn’t all fallen in place for me. I am making mistakes and I am mad. I have been seriously misled… I thought adults had their ducks in the row. My ducks are walking out in front of me into oncoming traffic. I thought after four tortuous years of high school and four and half years of college, I would emerge knowing how to be an effective member of society; someone who makes a difference; someone who has her stuff together. I thought I would know how to eliminate some mistakes, manage my life, my stress and my break outs. I just really thought that adults knew what they were doing all the time. But it was the mistake thing I was hoping to avoid. I am a perfectionist and my sister believes I have chronic anxiety. No she is not a doctor but she may not be far off on her amateur WebMD diagnosis. I am at constant stress level of at least eleven and blame myself for 110% of the mistakes I make, accidental ones too. God, life is stressful. I was hoping that at some point I would feel like had enough figured out that those mistakes could just be shrugged off. The knot of stress in my shoulders doesn’t allow me to do much shrugging. I see my friends on Facebook posting adulting memes. I know they get this feeling too. I know that I am not alone, but somedays it feels that way. I catch coffee with my best friend and talk about all the stress. I know she gets it. She is stressed too. We both beat ourselves up for not handling our lives better. We want to do everything right. But that is impossible… If you read this hoping that I had a grand truth. I am sorry. I really don’t have it. I am an adult but I am still trying to figure this whole life thing out. I am trying to eliminate mistakes, but sometimes ten more pop up for everything one thing I get right. It is a real whack a mole situation. But I am realizing we all feel this way. We all just need to talk about it and support each other. Reach out and share our stress. And keeping doing the best we can.
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By Marie Bombeck
Well, it has been awhile… a long while. It has been so long that the excuses of why I have not written are as long as my arm. And boy, the excuses are lame. The best excuse is that a cat jumped in my lap and wanted to snuggle. Cat lovers, you know that this is a valid excuse. But the other excuses are simply me not making the time to write. That is valid, right? Hey, you get it. I know you do. There is no judgement here. So this short post is to get me back in the blogging game and let you know that more is going to be coming your way. I am back on the blogging horse, and it is going to be going full gallop ahead. As long as no cats jump on my lap. Because I am one cat mama that will always make time for my fur-babies. Unless it is before 7:00 am, then sorry, the food bowls are going to be empty another half hour. Pardon the long introduction, while I got to the meat of this blog. It will be worth it, I think. I don’t know. You decide. So it is Lent season, I am going to give up excuses for not doing the things I love, such as drawing, reading, and most importantly writing. You know those everyday excuses that we use to worm our way out of most things. My house isn’t clean. I don’t really have any good ideas today. (I had no idea what I was going to write when I sat down for this post and I am already at 284 words by the end of this sentence. So clearly that excuse is complete hogwash.) So here is to no lame excuses, especially if they are preventing you from doing things you truly love to do. Forget the dishes, forget the chores. Feed yourself because that is important, but besides that draw a line. Make some time. Shut your pie-hole before you utter the lame excuses. No more excuses. Nike it. Or in other words, just do it. |
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September 2018
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