365 Days Later....

365 days ago... What a powerful set of words. A whole year. That seems like forever when you think of it as 8,760 hours or 525,600 seconds. But I'm not choosing to think about a year as forever. It really is only 12 months, four short seasons. That hardly seems like enough time to accomplish all of the things that "a year" should contain. Happiness. Excitement! Love. Pain. But most of all a year should contain memories. Memories are the bones of a lifetime.

Me, I've made the last year of my life... well, memorable. Not necessarily in a good way, but the year's events have definitely shaped the bones of my figurative being. But, oh the lessons I've learned!

365 days ago I was lying in the bed of our local ER. It was the day before my birthday and my little sister had inadvertently damaged a nerve in my neck, an accident that still presents complications. I remember being transferred from one bed to an x-ray table, back to the bed, then to another x-ray table. Every time my neck moved in the slightest I wanted to scream from the pain, but I did not let the siring electric wires in my neck bubble forth in any other form than silent tears that ran down my cheeks in a steady flow and caused all the nurses to whisper when they thought I couldn't hear. I was mostly crying because of the pain, but also because of a feeling that had grown inside of me for months, fostered by bad, bad, bad association. At the time, I couldn't have told you that feeling meant, but I can now. It was emptiness. I cried over things that I thought I wanted even though I honestly didn't even know what I was asking for.

Anyway, after the hospital staff finally determined that strong pain killers would mask the pain long enough for the muscles in my neck to stop going into uncontrollable spasms, me and my mother drove around for hours trying to find a 24 hour pharmacy. You'd be surprised just how many pharmacies close at ten. However, we finally did find one, and I spent the next few days, including my birthday, floating in and out of extreme laxness and unconsciousness.

You know, I don't really think I ever came out of that laxness. I became lax about my friends, my attitude, my morals. But 365 days later, I can tell you that I am very much concious. Neither does my neck hurt, nor do tears are fall from my eyes. The drugs have finally worn off. Finally!

Now, for that which I really wanted to tell you. I accomplished something today! Something that seems like the best, most satisfying thing in the entire world. Are you ready for this?

With the patient and loving assistance of my fabulous big sis, I perfected the art of parallel parking! What can I say? I'm a complete and total geek! (Not a dork...;) But having something to be proud of, no matter how small, seems like the only thing I could possibly ask for.

Could it be that the only thing I really need to find is an accomplishment in every day? Hmm.. Interesting. Now I'm intrigued. What did you accomplish today? How about tomorrow?

I would love to tell you that for the next 365 days I will write to you everyday and tell you what I've accomplished in life, but I can't. The only thing I can guarantee is that the 525,600 seconds of my life are going to be filled with contentment. It's a word that means being satisfied with having nothing more exciting to blog about than parallel parking. It's a word that means trying hard to keep your life simple, to the point, purposeful. It's a word that leads to true happiness.

Contentment means taking each day for what it's worth.

With that said, tomorrow is going to be a great day. I get to visit my ponies, and I get to hang out with my lovely grandmother. Life is good.   :)

Overachieving a Perfectionist

Some say being a perfectionist is a good thing. Some swear that there is nothing worse. I personally feel that it all has to do with how your brain is wired; whether you are or are not inclined towards perfection. Up until now, I’ve truly been indifferent. Being an overachieving perfectionist like myself, I just do what I do best, achieving and perfecting, and let the rest fall into place.

This syndrome that we perfectionists have only presents a problem when you’re suddenly not able to do what you see as being perfect. In a perfect world I would not have a blinding, pounding, thundering headache right now. Nor would I be scheduled to give a talk in less than twenty-four hours.  Nor would I need to write thousands of words yet tonight. Nor would I feel like I’m incapable of these feats

Yes, in my perfect would I would not be faced with the choice of what I want and what I need. What I really want is to feel better, to write, to give my talk, and to come home to my love’s voice. To me, that doesn’t sound like a very high request, but none of those things are even remotely possible.

Stupid head. It picked that absolute wrong time to be obstinate. By officially admitting that I’m invalid enough to temporarily give up one of my favorite things, public speaking, I feel like I am admitting defeat. It is so unlike me to not come through on something that I’ve been asked to do. And so by canceling the entire day tomorrow and taking a sick day in bed, I will have spent almost forty-eight hours indoors and will risk the onset of perpetual blues.

What I really need to do is write until my fingers go numb, get up in the morning, and just do it! A couple months ago, that’s exactly what I would have done. I was fresher then; I was more me, but part of who I am disappeared, carried in someone else’s heart. Maybe I just cried that part of me out of my system with all of the other emotions. Who knows? Who cares?

So, the ultimate question: Should I a) get up, get going, and just do it, or b) resign into bed feeling quite pitiful?

In light of these current thoughts, I have decided I hate being an overachieving perfectionist. It means that you can’t be happy with your best, especially when you’re at your worst. You become your own worst enemy. You begin to feel like you could or should be better than you are, get higher grades than you do, write more proficiently than you have been. 

And that’s when you tell that stupid little voice in your head to shut up. You tell her that you are no different than you were two months ago, that you’re just as proficient as you were then. You face yourself in the mirror, your biggest fear. You become determined to overachieve your inner perfectionist. You get up, you admit defeat, you cancel your talk, you write until your fingers go numb, and you go to sleep dreaming of a dark and swarthy Mocha Frapp. Then you wake up, drag your pounding head out of bed, drive to Starbucks, and order yourself a Mocha Frappuccino. At least there is the one thing that will always be perfect.

Those are the thoughts of a true overachieving perfectionist. 

p.s….. I really, really need to know what your favorite drink at Starbucks is. I’m not talking a temporary liking. I mean the real deal that will be waiting for you, yummy and delicious as always. Ryan needs to know. Don’t ask. It’s for the book.

Time

Uh oh… it’s happening again.  My life is starting to spin uncontrollably into the future, and things are moving forward at an alarming pace. I’m determining what route in life I want to pursue and meeting all sorts of people that will most likely have a significant impact of my future. It’s overall quite exciting, but then again it’s frightening. The years when I can say, “I don’t know yet, but I’ve got a few more years to decide,” are slipping away. Suddenly I have decisions that no one else can make for me, and I have responsibilities that only I can tend to. How’s a girl supposed to handle that?

Just the other day I went to one of my nine cousins basketball game, and it’s amazing how much we’ve all changed! With the oldest cousin off to college and the rest of us following close behind, something doesn’t feel right. We are leaving our puerile ways! To any person that has grown into venerable senescence, our ages would seem only to be the very beginning of the callow stages. But to us, it feels as though we have conquered major levels in the game called life. Sometimes I know we all feel invincible, and the thought that someday we will have to experience the superannuated life that others around me cope with daily is unreal. Then again, I remember thinking 2010 would never start, and here it is almost over! Before I get a chance to stop and establish where I am, I’m a year older and with that come many more expectations from those around me.

 I look back to when my cousins and I were little and our whole obligation in life was to enjoy a good game of hide and seek and a freezer treat. Those days were nearly perfect, but it didn’t seem like it at the time. A scraped knee felt like the end of the world, and believe me, I got those A LOT! The times when we were so carefree are forever lost in history, and then I stop to think about today. Will I look back at this very moment and wish I could be back in my childhood room writing a blog instead of paying bills? What are the “scraped knees” in my life now? Everything seems much bigger than that, but I’m sure to someone older and wiser my issues would seem minute.

Ugh… Time changes everything and cannot be stopped. What next? Only time itself will tell.

October 28th... TWICE!

There is a point where the human body drops out of complete and total exhaustion. For me, that point was about seven hours ago. Have you ever tried riding a horse over a course of jumps on the first bitter day of winter after being awake for nearly forty-eight hours? Let me tell you... it is a very, very BAD combination! My horse was feeling quite well today and decided he would much rather plow over the jumps that actually jump them. And honestly... I was too tired to care. I came home, still did not care, showered, and sat down. Another very bad idea. I kept telling myself I was awake, and I thought I was awake, but I definitely was not awake. An hour later I woke up only to realize that no matter how hard I may try, my eyes would not be opened. This pattern repeated itself until I finally gave in to the reality that I had no choice but to let the liberating veil of sleep encompass me. And at nine o'clock pm I awakened with a start to find that I had been sleeping for six hours. The only thing to greet me back into the world of living the was a blinding headache, a strange craving for spaghetti, and a need to write something. So as the world is winding down and most will be snuggling in for the night, I begin the day of October 28th all over again.

5.02

5.02-     Life as we know it would cease without it. But why? It's just a number, isn't it? Don't be silly; nothing as ever as simple as it seems. Not only would the entire numerical system be altered in this number's absence, $5.02 represents the price of the overall inspiration for this blog.... the Mocha Frappuccino. Some might view such a motivation as meaningless, something unworthy of their time and consideration. That is merely because they do not share the same exhilarating drive that can only be attained through the straw of a Starbucks cup. Without Mochas you can have absolute assurance that a good percentage of the American population would fail epically in all endeavors requiring any sort of sanity. Yes, when all the world is crumbling down around you, is it a black cup of Folgers that keeps you going? Hardly! The luscious taste of the Mocha Frappuccino, however, is comfort enough to suspend us through ANY situation.  

Now obviously there is only so much to be said about a drink, no matter how desirable. This blog is dedicated to all the people who are shaping me into a young adult. Nevertheless, one person in particular deserves to be recognized for his support and loving arms, strong enough to lift me out of the depths of despair. It is this very person who first introduced me to my sanity (the Mocha Frappuccino) and who I pray will be a part of my life forever. 

It is will all confidence that I embark on this crucial journey... discovering the true meaning of Sanity through Mochas.