Nothing That’s Worthwhile Is Ever Easy
People have noticed.
They notice that I seem to have lost my sparkle.
I notice it too.
I am sore and exhausted. I am emotional. I am closed off. Quiet. Jaded. Dark. Unusually snarky.
If I had a nickel for every person who has told me that diamonds are only created under the most intense and pressing limits of stress, then I would be able to buy a frickin’ diamond. Which I would promptly sell off for rent money.
One can only wander around carrying the weight of the world on their shoulders for so long before they collapse.
Because truthfully, I just don’t know how to be strong enough lately. This will probably lead to my failure. Which is possibly my greatest fear in life, right after cracks in the sidewalk while wearing stilettos and poisonous snakes.
Which adds a whole new continent to the ever expanding globe that rests between my shoulder blades.
In the dark super stressful moments, I wonder if I don’t have what everyone else does. The drive, the work ethic, the talent, the ability. If my life is destined to forever be status quo, though the thought of that breaks my heart more than the reality of the feeling of helplessness I experience.
To be clear, I’m not preparing to jump off the bridge beside my house or anything like that.
But I do feel like I’m in a desperate free-fall, inevitably waiting for the ground to rise up and crush me.
I don’t think it is supposed to feel like this.
When I see a trailer for a new show with a character who is adorably endearing but horribly awkward, I shouldn’t hang my head in a place of shame. (In my defense, when 4 different friends send it to you saying that the girl reminds you of them, it does not aid in the process of trying to believe that you are not her.)
And I shouldn’t watch the movie Bridesmaids with a friend who has to ask multiple times if I would like to leave the theatre because everyone is laughing hysterically at a plot line that freakishly mimics my own, without the crazy wedding part thrown in but with the opening scene (minus straddling a driveway gate).
It isn’t like I want everything the world has to offer.
I have actually been getting rid of useless excess like Jillian Michaels and chocolate cake.
I don’t know what else to let go of to let in the life I want.
Other than to totally give up the life I have. Which hurts.
It IS totally painful and it DOES feel like a part of you is dying. Because it is.
You are killing it off.
To change your life you have to CHANGE YOUR LIFE.
Not really rocket science.
But it comes so much easier for so many people. Those of us that struggle? Those of us who contemplate the fact that we don’t even have the frivolous spending budget for a haircut, and later that morning we get our hair sucked into the back of a box fan?
Well, if you aren’t living an extraordinary life, then you aren’t living a life worth living. Hell, I’ve said that we all deserve to live the life of someone we would read about in our favorite story.
And that so few of us are willing to embrace that opportunity. To be the authors of our own lives.
Maybe I need to become the author of a series about a young woman who just has a series of unfortunate events that are not at all supernatural but instead hilariously laughable to everyone but her (OK, occasionally even she laughs at them)?
Because that is the life I live. It is who I am. Do I really want to lose that?
Is it really impossible to lead a happier life without having to vitally change who you are?
I’m just as guilty as the rest of them, I preach this shit on my site like it’s nothing more than a Sunday jaunt in the grassy park. (And for that, I’m sorry Tatiana)
But feeling sorry for myself and wading in the suffering does nothing in the end.
There are starving children in Africa, right? What right do I have to cry uncontrollably for ten minutes over a chunk of hair from my already layered cut? Seriously. I can’t even find where I had to cut the hair out from!
I know that the title of this post is the truth. That the life we want does not often come easily. I don’t want it to come easily.
I really wish it wasn’t so damned hard either.
I don’t want it all.
I just want my sparkle back.
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