A little less of “her” for a whole lot more ME!

I just sat down to write and set my timer for 15 minutes. I’m not entirely sure what message will unfold, but I know there’s something to be written in this time. I want writing to be a bigger part of my life, so I’m being intentional about creating time to simply put fingers on keys. I’m sitting at my new dining room table, writing. Just for the hell of it. Just for the word count. Just so I can look myself in the mirror and be proud of myself. 

Fact: I’ve fallen into a cycle of hoping things will happen without a plan to make them happen. Tyler reminds me of this pretty consistently when he has to be my shoulder to cry on when I’m feeling disappointed. I am not good and not doing. I am always thinking of a goal, always thinking of that vision of the life I want to live… and I always find myself feeling guilty or disappointed when another week has flown by and I haven’t taken even a little time to bring me closer to my own vision. 

At some point recently, I got tired of feeling guilty. I got tired of beating myself up for not really doing the things that will get me where I want to be. I got tired of spending so much time on social media and comparing my life to what I see other people doing. 

There have been too many hours spent pouring thought instagram highlights, posts, and stories searching for the key to becoming what those people are. I’ve watched their content thinking I’d be able to learn from the free content they share. And, sometimes, I did. A little. I learned that the best way to get there is to work for it. I learned that success comes from lots and lots and lots of hard work, years of repetition and routine and creating content for other people to consume. 

You know what I didn’t find? 

My story. I didn’t find myself proud. I didn’t find the shortcut to my dreams. I didn’t find VIP access to their “secrets” or the reality of what they’ve done all along. I didn’t find a to do list or checklist for creating the life I want.  I didn’t find a summary of all the sacrifices they’ve made to get where they are. I found a whole lot of them and not one bit of me. 

Because my story doesn’t live on their page. My story is the free table and chairs Tyler and I immediately pulled off the side of the road after our neighbors put the free sign in front of it. The table I’m writing this blog on.  My story is the fact that I’m writing this at 8:00 PM on a beautiful June evening because I wanted to get some writing in today. My story is that I want to be a writer, not a consumer of other people’s Instagram stories. This craft, this work, is honed through the nights I spend sitting at this table, typing on these keys, waiting for that timer to buzz after 15 minutes of focused writing have passed. These are the moments of tiny choices that lead to the big results. I could have just as easily crawled into my bed and started watching another episode of Grey’s Anatomy. I could have just as easily opened my book and started reading more of the story while relaxing into leisure time. I could have just as easily unlocked my phone, opened facebook or Instagram, and lost the next 45 minutes to the same thoughts I always think while scrolling through other people’s curated stories just to wind up at the same comparative thoughts: 

“I want to be like her. How has she done it?”  The more I do that the more of her I become and the less of me I create.  So, this is me choosing something different. Instead of choosing her content, I chose these 15 minutes. My timer is ticking away and I’m almost done, but this is different, and of that I’m proud. This is a break in the monotony of the same ol’, same ol’ that lead me to the same results. 

If I want something different, I have to do something different. 

This is different. This is a blog. This is consistency in action. This is my dream. This is one simple choice that is leading me to an entirely different feeling. And that was 15 minutes.