Well, well. Writing every day isn't so easy.

I started this with the intent of writing every day. And I have been writing every day - just not here.
I've always wanted to write. Novels. Children's books. Cookbooks. Blogs. Reviews. I love writing, but I stopped somewhere along the way. I started critiquing myself too much, and in turn started to hate it. My one regret is every idea I've had in the past few years that have been tossed aside, are now long gone. I didn't make notes of them to save for a rainy day. I just simply dismissed these ideas, and went about my day.

I finally dusted off the old "Writers Block" book I picked up while working at Borders. I've been just working through a few of the exercises each day, just trying to get myself back into the habit of writing. The truth is, I've always had a bit of a fear of writing. In high school, I was afraid to turn in assignments in Creative Writing. We would take turns reading each others work, and I never wanted anyone to see mine. I was always too afraid that my writing was too dark for a sixteen year old girl. My teachers would always compliment the way I structured my writing. My attention to detail. The way I could latch onto something, and drag the reader into my words - but I was terrified of it.

I seem to be afraid of anything I'm good at. I run from it. I hide. If I don't do it, I can't be disappointed. I can't have my heart broken. But that stops now. I've always been naturally good at damn near anything I attempt. Except math.... I can't math. So why not start writing again? Why not do something I love? Isn't that the point of loving something? To love it so much, that it rips you open until all of your words just spill out?


Today, my gratitude goes to friends. New and old. Close, and far away. Friends who are still here after months of me pushing them away. Friends who still care after years of not speaking, who can pick back up like we spoke yesterday. Friends I've made in just the past few months. And friends who have reminded me that I am a strong, intelligent, kind, funny, caring woman. Something I seemed to have lost somewhere while trying to fit in. What's that saying? Why try to fit in when you were born to stand out? I think I finally get it.

100 happy days? how about a lifetime worth, instead?

Recently, I've been dealing with this internal struggle. Trying to figure out how to be a wife. How to be a good employee. How to be a good friend. A good daughter. A good sister. A good aunt. A good granddaughter. I feel like there's a million people I need to spend time with, a million things I need to do, a million things I need to figure out. I'm constantly afraid of hurting someone. Of being disappointing. My mind has been on overload for months, and I'm finally realizing one thing: I need to be a good ME.

I had come to the point where it was easier to hide. To retract from everyone, stick my nose in a book, and pretend that I'm alone. It hadn't occurred to me that I was hurting my family. That I was hurting my husband. That I was hurting my friends. I was expecting them all to love me, without loving them first. And when I did put forth the effort, I was not loving unconditionally and intentionally. I was loving with an expectation of being loved in return. When I told my husband I loved him, I was expecting him to say he loved me, too. When I asked friends to hang out, I was expecting them to drop everything to hang out with me. When I asked family for favors, I was expecting them to be around to help me the second I needed it. And when my expectation weren't met, I was feeling hurt. This has never been the person I am. And I started to despise myself without having any idea why.

My husband and my sisters and my parents were telling me I was unappreciative. And I would scoff at it. I always say thank you. I always say please when I ask for something. But what I wasn't doing, was internalizing the fact that these people were sacrificing their own well being for mine. And when they each started distancing themselves, I couldn't understand what I'd done wrong. Every day, I'd get a little sadder. I'd sit and pity myself, thinking the world was out to get me. But it was myself the entire time. I was slowly killing myself with self doubt. I've never had any reason to believe these people don't care for me. I'd made up reasons in my head. Out of desperation, I started reading self help books. And in a way, they actually helped. They made me realize how ridiculous I was being. How incredibly lucky I am.

I not only have a husband who loves me, but he supports me. If I asked him for something, he'd do it. If I wanted to do something without him, he'd tell me have fun. And that is so incredibly rare. I was trying to be a picture perfect wife. Have dinner on the table. Do the dishes. Look nice. Do all the laundry. Worry about the future. And in the process, I stopped being the person he fell in love with in the first place. The person he fell in love with was funny. She listened to music he would absolutely make fun of, and she'd still defend it to the death. She would wait up for him to get home from work with silly little surprises. She had patience. She'd leave love notes near his keys in the morning. And suddenly, this person he loved was just gone. Tired from feeling sick all the time. Overbearing. Trying too hard to do everything all at once. Never wanting to go out. Feeling sad all the time. Neither of us recognized the person I'd been. And who I was? I hated her. I hate her now. Things needed to change.

I started going out with friends more often. Reconnecting with people I'd long since lost touch with. And I started to feel a little better. I started reading again. I started just loving my husband again instead of expecting from him. And nearly instantly, my mood lifted. I started feeling better for the first time in months.


So here's my pledge: every day, I will be grateful. I will find happiness in each day. I will find something to be thankful for in even the worst days. I will be happy.



My first thing I'm thankful for? This man.

He's my best friend. He's the love of my life. He could have walked away a thousand times, and he's still here by my side, loving me every day. Even the days I don't deserve it. I could never put into words the way his presence keeps me strong. Five years later, and he still gives me butterflies like the first time he kissed me. He's everything to me.