Drop the Drama

I have a lot of feelings.

Ever find yourself watching Teen Mom on purpose? Lifetime movies? Crying over songs Justin Timberlake wrote for Jessica Biel? Super Bowl commercials?

It can get a little embarrassing, but I do. When people open up about great loss, when they open up over great triumph, when they make something beautiful, when they display any degree of passion in any direction–I cry. I can face it: I cry a lot.

Past

As a kid, my mom and other relatives would call me a “drama queen,” and it caused me great hurt. My feelings felt so real to me; how could people who love me devalue them like that?

When I grew into an adolescent, I rebelled against my feelings. I hated that I was emotional, so I took on a persona of  “hippie” and “chill”. Drama free, care free. I wanted to be Cool Girl, and I steered clear of all people who were always fighting about who knows what, in favor of others who shared the same carefree careless attitude toward life. I wanted to be strong.

As an adult, I embrace my feelings, and take pride in the empathy I have for others. I learned that strength comes from knowing yourself, expressing yourself fearlessly, and inspiring others to do the same. I steered away from the drama-filled people and the careless, and confide in people who are emotionally aware. Now, I’m really drama free, right?

Present

Not quite. A little perspective I gathered from my 40 days meeting today:

Just because you steer clear of unnecessary conflict and people who are always wrapped up in it, doesn’t make you bulletproof from drama.

How often do you think, “Well, I really want to _______, BUT _____,” where BUT is some aspect of life that you allow to limit your growth?

  • “I really want to lose weight, BUT I can’t make the time to work out.
  • “I really want to eat healthy, BUT I hardly know how to cook.
  • “I really want to blog everyday, BUT I worry that there’s nothing valuable in what I have to say, and no one will care.
  • “I really want to simplify my life, BUT first I have to tend to my to-do list.

These are limiting beliefs I’ve let control my actions–my life even. I bring drama to things like going for a run because I haven’t done the laundry yet. I bring drama into cooking because I might fail again, I bring drama into blogging because “Oh no, I posted a link to my blog on Facebook and now people who I know could read about how I really feel and things I do that no one probably cares about and I’ll be vulnerable and they’ll judge me and my writing isn’t good enough and and and!” 

I bring drama into finding misplaced objects: “Where is that f*cking thing?” and as I continue to look, “Damn it! I can’t live in this mess!” and I bring drama into laundry: “I’m going to fold some laundry, but first I need to find a movie on Netflix to watch while doing that.” Then later, “Ugh! Why does Netflix keep messing up, I’m trying to focus on getting this stuff done!” 

Future

Now that I’ve noticed these thought patterns, I can bring ease into my daily life. I can stop thinking about what could limit me, and just BEGIN. I can think to myself, “Where is that useful object?” and replace the word “f*cking” with “delightful” in any situation. I can glide over the hurdles effortlessly if I’m focused on the finish line. All I need to do is see and drop the drama.

Is there something simple in life that you add drama to? Let me know in the comments!

 Featured image found on https://myfitwitjourney.wordpress.com/

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What to NOT do for your first 70.3

Just like running marathons, triathlon is something that found me. After my first race, (formerly) Livestrong Austin Marathon, I knew only one other person who had completed a race of that distance and was still very alone in my new interest. At 22, that wasn’t something on my peer group’s radar.

Friends and family began to ask me, “What’s next?” and “Round 2?” right away. Continue reading

My Face Hurts.

Deciding to become a stay-at-home mom was a long, drawn out process that was fraught with worry and hesitation. In May of 2013, after a few long and hard years of going to college while caring for a child, most of which was during a divorce, I graduated from a four year university. Those school years were plagued with doubt, and I was constantly terrified of how disappointed everyone would be if I couldn’t get a job after those years of leaning on others for support. I took the second job I was offered. Then, I stumbled upon an opportunity that was better for me and my home life, and jumped at it. Working from home, part time, for 150% better pay than the first. Perfect.

It was only a couple of months in before I realized how unsuited I was for the gig. I was disorganized, I lacked passion about my subject matter, and I lacked self-motivation. Week after week, I was suffering from self-imposed stress because I was focusing more on my duties as a homemaker and a mother than on being an employee. I was a failure. One day, in tears, I lamented to Mark, “I could climb the corporate ladder, I could be an entrepreneur, but nothing will give me as much satisfaction as raising my kids!” Unfortunately, it wasn’t in the cards for me. Continue reading

The beginning of my my divorce at 22

One of my favorite things to read/look at is Humans of New York. I love the rawness of the stories, and the perspective it allows the reader to gain.

A post today was of a woman who found out her husband was cheating, stayed with him for the children, then was later told by a physician that she needed to be tested for AIDS because he had contracted the disease. This really struck a chord with me and reminded me of a painful story of my own. Continue reading

Before the Bucket List

The journey didn’t start with the list. It started with a hangover. It was the day after my 22nd birthday and the primary gifts I received for that one were a cookie cake, a few failures, and a dash of embarrassment. We’ve all been there.

This time it was different. Everything aligned in just the wrong way, all the wrong things happened, and I didn’t like the way it rubbed me. The journey started with a declaration of desperation: no more drinking for a month–no—a year. And I’ll find other ways to have fun. It’s as simple as that.

After a month of no longer working at the bar, my house was cleaned, my yard was trimmed, I had been journaling the heck out of how I felt about the whole ordeal and I was sleeping outside in the hammock during my son’s naps. I was unemployed, waiting for the fall semester to begin, and I was bored. Boy was I bored. I was ready for something more. Anything more. I didn’t even know where to start.

So I started at the gym. A lot. I was going nearly every day when one day I ran into a couple of my old bar regulars, Mike and Mark. Mark had lost tons of weight, I didn’t even recognize him. He said he was training for a marathon, and I was impressed. I had started running when my son was born, and always thought the “eventual” goal would be to run a marathon.

I went home that night and didn’t like the idea that another person that I know was going to achieve a goal of mine before I was. I then did some research, picked a race, charged it to a credit card (hey, I said I wasn’t working) and although I didn’t write it down yet, I started training to
1. Run a marathon.