goals

Possibly one of the strangest days of my life

So back to my exciting weekend: Saturday was a trip! And by trip, I mean a visit into realities that are so far from my own.

I hope any reader out there picked up on the warning that I will pretty much talk about anything and everything in this blog, and this entry will just be one of those extra special glimpses into my life.

I started my day with a trip to my home town to attend the baby shower of one of my oldest friends.  I have known Karen since middle school and can still remember the first day I met her, laughing at our goofy teacher in computer class.  We always had the greatest time together, becoming inseparable and even leaving the public school system together to attend a parochial high school that my brother went to.

I had the privilege of standing up in her wedding two years ago, and after more than 6 months of trying, she and her husband finally got pregnant with their first child.  I couldn’t be happier or more excited for her.  

She and her husband moved to Philadelphia almost a year ago now, so when I got the invite to her Michigan based shower, I was ecstatic (no girl should go a year without seeing one of her best friends).  It wasn’t until I was driving there that I had to remind myself that this wouldn’t be our usual, careless hang out and catch up session… it was a baby shower, one of the most awkward things for a single girl like me who has no children and cannot picture them in her foreseeable future.  To me, any midday, non-work related social gathering that occurs on a Saturday or Sunday that doesn’t include alcohol is way out of my comfort zone.  A baby shower falls under this category.  After all, I was the friend at the shower that still had sharpied numbers on my hand from the bar the night before.

Note that I am not a huge drinker, but again, as a single twentysomething, alcohol is usually a mainstay at any event.  My parting text before leaving to my heterosexual soul mate was, “there will probably be balloons and no wine” (I HATE balloons…it is my weird phobia).

Excitement was restored when I arrived and was able to sit with 3 beautiful classmates of mine from high school.  It was so great to see these familiar faces, but I soon felt like I had sat down at a Russian only speaking math convention (not speaking a lick of Russian and being terrible at math).  All 3 of them being mothers to 1 if not 2 beautiful  children, the conversation naturally turned to breast feeding, breaking water, bed times, upcoming recitals and the highs and lows of motherhood and marriage.  

Natalie, an amazing woman who I was very close with in high school, kept looking at me and laughing because I clearly looked lost and out of place.  It was so strange that I graduated with these women, am the same age as them, but felt like I was from a completely different planet.  I had nothing to add about “which city was THE best for young families to build houses” or “whether a child should sleep in your bed or not”.  How does a person our age even afford to build a house?  I can hardly build up a canned goods collection in my cupboards. 

“Which gift is yours?”  I was asked by a woman sitting at our table, as she nodded toward the table loaded full of presents.  ”The one that’s not wrapped” I said, shoveling cake into my mouth, my stuffed lamb sat staring back at us, perched on top of the children’s book, just screaming, “bought by the single, non-mommy”… typical I suppose.

All in all, it was so great to see my friends and the beautiful women they have grown into, but it was good to come home to my bachelorette pad and a life I can relate to… well, I was safe for a few hours anyway.

That night, I had a the unique opportunity to see 2 of my co-workers and a good friend of mine compete in a figure show.  Never having been to a figure show, I had no idea what to expect.  I thought I had a vague idea, but it’s like that saying from the old MTV show “The Diary Of…” that said “You think you know, but you have no idea”.

The show was kicked off (25 minutes late) by a woman belly dancing while balancing a sword on her head, bending and twisting, and humping the air from a kneeling position.  I am pretty sure she was cross-eyed.  I wasn’t sure at this point what I had gotten myself into.  She was followed by another guest “poser” who was a short man in his 50’s wearing a dog collar and a leather thong with studded fringe hanging daringly over his butt, which he repeatedly turned and shook at the crowd.  He was dancing so hard I thought his dog collar was going to pop off.  I give them both major credit though, because they owned their performances and had clearly put a lot of work into their physiques… I just wasn’t prepared.

The show continued onto the women’s competition, and again, a world of credit is given to these women because they looked amazing, but dear God, I am pretty sure I was born in more fabric than these women were wearing.  I wanted to pop fresh bottles of Tylenol to use the cotton to string together a bigger outfit for them.  They would walk out, pose, then pivot to face the back of the stage in order to stick out their butts to show off their hamstrings.  At one point, there were 6 perfect asses just staring at me.  Had my boyfriend been there, I would have shot myself… I don’t need him knowing that asses like that actually exist in the greater Lansing area.  I like to thinks he believes that all asses look like they have taken fire from a meteor shower.

It honestly felt like a horse auction.  Contestants would stand up there and people would shout for their favorite.  I kept waiting for someone to yell, “$100 on number 3!”.  Again, though, it is a tough sport requiring a perfect diet and hours of dedication in the gym.  God bless em.  I couldn’t help but feel that I could have saved my $25 and felt like shit about myself at home.  Not to mention the fact that the MC kept announcing the “winner of the 2002…”, he didn’t get the memo that it was 2012.  Poor guy was either nervous or high. 

It was so worth it though to see my friends up there.  All of their time at the gym, struggling through the bland diet and sacrifice of any sort of social life paying off as people screamed for them on stage.  It was so motivating to see these people (as crazy as it was) showing off the product of their hard work.  It made me think twice about the drinks I was order that night to recover from the ocular rape that was the belly dancer and thong shaker. 

So, for now, I have had a sneak peak at mother hood and body building, and though motivating and fascinating, neither are for me at this particular juncture in life, but I have learned to never say never, so I wont cross them off of the list of possibilities. 

Watch Your Step

I have never pretended to be graceful, and I always have the amazing super-power of proving why; I fall all the time.  I walk into walls, I spill things, I will trip on things that aren’t there, I have just been blessed that way.

Today while enjoying a run with one of my dear, dear friends and her 3 little girls, I managed to catch my foot on, and proceed to trip over, a slight crack in the sidewalk.  This happened 2 minutes into our run after I had made the joke that I should borrow one of the girls’ helmets because, back to the first point, I am not graceful. And sure enough I just bit it!  It wasn’t even a clean fall, it was one of those tripping, trying to catch myself for a good 6 feet, but still failing, trip.  Scraped hands and all, I picked myself up and kept going, laughing at myself along with a 12, 10, and 5 year old. 

About a mile later, the best part of my day happened when Bailey, the 5-year-old, called back to me from ahead, “Stephanie, there is a crack in the sidewalk up here, so don’t hurt yourself!”… perfect execution, and straight from the heart.

I am usually against running with people, but lately, I need it.  The option to stop is not as readily available as it is when you are by yourself, and having someone to talk to or just give you a boost, or for you to give them a boost, makes runs go by so much faster.  I didn’t realize how badly I was in need of a training buddy until today, especially one as awesome as this friend, who comes with a cheering section of 3.

Falling aside, it was a great run, and I have found my excitement for training once more!  Running is the most love-hate, turbulent relationship I have in my life.  A great run makes me feel on top of the world.  A bad run can make me feel like my life is falling apart and I can do nothing right.  It almost sounds like an abusive relationship because when it is good it’s great, when it’s bad it is the worst.  You can call me a bipolar runner; my highs are so high and my lows are so low.

But, I have found the magic ingredient that should help: a devoted running partner.  I am lucky in the fact that I love her to death, we laugh together, she is great at giving advice, and we run about the same pace.  She is perfect for me!

So onward my running partner and I shall go, tripping and all, to our half-marathons coming next month.  Hopefully her kids will be there to look out for me along the way.

So True!

Accepting the Compliment

I have always been afraid to outwardly admit that I am “good enough”.  I have always kept myself a rung or 2 lower than I probably deserve.  I have forever countered compliments with a negative, or something to dispute what is being said.

In high school, I was a state-recognized, record-holding soccer goalie, but at the time, you would never hear me call myself good.  I was the team captain, a “leader” on the field, was congratulated by parents, teachers, and classmates after good games, but I always acted as if it was all a fluke.  I had this fear that if I ever let myself believe that I was actually talented, that would open the flood gates for someone to disagree.  If I didn’t say it, I didn’t have to defend it, or I could say, “I told you so”, if I ever failed.

To this day if anyone compliments me on an accomplishment, or even my looks, I answer with something self-deprecating, remark about my weight, how I think my hair is stringy, or how my skin is like that of a middle school boy going through puberty.

I ran my first marathon last October, and any time someone congratulated me I would focus on the fact that I didn’t hit my time goal, or I had to walk for a mile because of heat and I had been sick all week.  When I crossed the finish line, I didn’t feel accomplished, my first thought was, “welp, gotta do better next time”.  

My habit of downplaying and degrading myself really hit me when I was telling one of my best friends about how I felt after the marathon, and her answer was like a hilarious slap in the face: “Quite frankly, that is really dumb”.

I just busted out laughing, because it was so true!  This was a conversation over G-chat, but I could just see her expression and hear the tone in her voice as she said it!  She was so right though!  What is with the safety net for failure that I carry around? That so many people carry around?! It is like giving yourself permission to fail because you never actually said you were going to succeed in the first place.  Training and finishing a marathon was probably one of the first things that I allowed myself to succeed at and I even try to kill that.  No wonder my life is floating around mediocrity, I haven’t even opened myself up to feel deserving of a compliment, much less the best my life has to offer. 

People say, “you get what you deserve”, but I believe that you get what you accept to expect to deserve.  It is time to switch the thinking.  Of course, there is always room to be better and improve, but not at the expense of what you have already done.  Whether it be running a marathon, a 5k, potty training your dog, or keeping a clean room for more than a week, do not be afraid to pat yourself on the back and recognize the victories you have every day, big or small. 

So, if you are anything like me, learn to accept compliments, admit when you have had a good game, or accomplished something.  Open yourself up to believing in being worthy of the life you want!  

Cheers!

Are Treadmills the Perfect Piece Of Exercise Equipment

And Off We Go…

There is a key habit that all writers must undertake in order to be writers, and that is to actually write.  The second would probably be to put what they write “out there” for people to read, and this brings us to here. 

Hi.

I have always been, what I considered, a natural writer.  I do best expressing myself through written word and always enjoyed putting pen to paper (or finger to keyboard), so it has become my life’s passion and ultimate goal to be a writer. 

Lucky for me, I took an interest to reading at a very young age, learning whatever letters I could, then reading the titles off of books in my room once I could piece them together.  My favorite workbook of choice was “Are you there God?  It’s me, Margaret”, probably because it had a number of manageable words in the title. (Side note: I never actually read the book, just went through and underlined every word I could sound out, which was really a lot of “the”.  From what I understand it’s about a girl getting her period?  Don’t ask why this was a staple in my bookshelf for as long as I can remember).

Now to the title of this blog: writing makes me happy and has always been a safe outlet for me.  I have been struggling through a quarterlife crisis for most of my twenties and have finally shifted my focus on what it is that makes me, and will make me, happy.  At the wise age of 27 (yeah, right!), I have finally accepted that happiness is a way of life, not a destination.  That phrase was first spoken by someone who was actually wise, forgive me, I forget who, but I believe it takes some level of wisdom to believe it. 

So, instead of focusing on what I don’t have, where I’m not at, and what I haven’t accomplished, I need to shift my sights on where I want to be, how I get there, and what I already have and do that makes me happy. 

Note that this isn’t a journey to get me happy, I already am a happy person, but it is an encouraging place for stepping stones on how to become the person I want to be, and hopefully can help any readers too. 

I must also note that I am a Gemini, so though this will be an upbeat blog, it will not follow the same subject at all times, but stick with me 😉

Health and Happiness!