This morning I found myself stuck in traffic, as is bound to happen on a weekday commute in Southern California. So there I am, in the fast lane, sitting in almost totally stopped traffic. But what struck me this morning was that while I was sitting there going about 2 mph, the two “slow” lanes were chugging along at about 40 mph. While those of us in the two fast lanes sat almost perfectly still, the slow lanes kept on truckin.

I tend to find myself wishing that things would hurry up. Once I’ve made up my mind that things bother me, or that I want things to be different, I get antsy and want it to happen Right. Now. It’s like I go–ok world, I’ve identified the source of my displeasure, now do your abracadabra act and fix it. Pronto. I want to be in the fast lane.

But honestly, the fast lane isn’t always a guarantee that you’re going to get the end faster. It may seem faster. It may mean that some things happen quicker. But it can also mean that there are a million other people jumping into the fast lane doing the same thing, slowing it all down.

The slow lane though…it may appear to take longer. When you first start out, you see everyone in the slow lane going 45 and everyone in the fast lane going 80. Why would you want to be doing 45 rather than 80? But maybe up ahead there’s some traffic that slows everyone down. But those in the slow lane–they still keep chugging, while the fast lane folks start slamming on their brakes. Is it better to take the slow and steady of the slow lane or the start and stop of the fast lane? Tortoise or the hare?

I need to be ok with being in the slow lane. I WILL change the things I want to change. I’m more strong willed than people realize when it comes to being happy in my life. But I need to be ok with it happening at 45 and not 80.

After this weekend, I’m more motivated than ever to start changing up my life. I’ve been wanting some changes for a while, but have, for a variety of reasons, put them off or dragged them out. After the news this weekend I realize with crystal clear clarity that life is too fucking short and fragile to not be happy, do what you love and spend it the way you want to.

So. Now instead of taking the slow and steady approach to change I normally do, I’m in the mood to fast-track. Which, for me, means facing and tearing down the roadblocks I put up for myself when facing big, life altering choices. To get myself to where I want to be, I’m going to have to get past these key issues:

1. An aversion to risk. I have always, ALWAYS, been a person who is afraid of risk. I am not a risk-tolerant person. Even my big “risky” moves across the country, weren’t really that risky. I am a corporate drone because it is safe. I follow the rules because it is stable. I feel like I can’t take risks because I’ve got to pay bills, have insurance, need a guaranteed job, etc. And yet. And yet, and yet and yet. Sometimes, when you’re confronting life that is unhappy (but safe) or happy (but risky)–well, risk is starting to sound much more appealing. I can always find a way to pay my bills. I am not going to let my family starve, or end up living in my mom’s spare bedroom. But I can’t always let my happiness and fulfillment fall at the feet of what’s safe.
2. A fear of not being good enough. I’ve always been rather…average. I’ve never been the bottom of the heap, but I’m rarely at the top either. I’m not super witty, funny, charming, outgoing, smart, gifted, talented, etc.etc. I’m a good, solid, middle of the road person, but middle of the road is often not enough for the kinds of things I dream up. Coupled with my risk aversion, my fear of not being good enough at the things I want to do has held me at bay for a long time. It’s easier to stay where I am, where I know I’m OK, than it is to put myself out there and be faced with the reality that I don’t have what it takes. But honestly, I’m strong enough to face rejection. I’ve got enough support to face the struggle. I would rather TRY and not be enough than not try.
3. An almost obsessive need to have EVERY.LITTLE.DETAIL. in place before I can so much as begin. Maybe it’s my years of marketing plans that require every little piece to be in place before you launch. Maybe it’s the obsessive, detail person in me coming out. Or maybe it’s just a stall tactic. But I always feel like I have to have every little tiny thing worked out before I can begin. I have to have it perfect before I can let it go into the world. Which has its place, admittedly. I’m never going to get rid of that impulse entirely. But at the same time, there are instances where just jumping in and figuring it out along the way can be a better solution. Like when you’re aching for a change in your life. Maybe now is the time to just throw some of this out into the universe and figure out the little details as I go.
4. The feeling that I have to be the grown-up. I love my husband. I love that he is creative, and that he thinks outside the box, and that he is so creative and energetic about building his career. And I have fully supported him–it was my insistence that he freelance full time, because that is what he needs. BUT. I sometimes feel like because he is a freelancer, and an artist and a “non-traditional worker” that I have to be the grown-up all the time. By that I mean I feel like I have to be the one to maintain the stability of a traditional job. Which, in this economy, has meant in part that I feel trapped in my current job because it’s not like career or industry changes are all that easy in this market. And in San Diego? Yeah, not so hot. But honestly, that’s a load of shit. N.C. doesn’t expect me to be the slave in our relationship so that he can “play”–he would be the first person to tell you that I should go after my dreams and that we’ll find a way to make things work–but I put that on myself. I mean, we have a kid now, we can’t just be running willy-nilly after our dreams without someone having a stable career. Can we? You know what though? We can. I can. I can go after my fulfillment just like he went after his and we’ll figure out how to make it work. We will.

I’ve been feeling some of this for a while, but this weekend’s news really put a big giant spotlight on it–this is my one and only life. This is it. If I’m not happy, that’s not good for me. It’s not good for my family, it’s not good for Jackson. If I want something different for my life, I am the ONLY person who can make it happen. Which means I need to get out of my own way, tear down those stupid roadblocks, and just jump in. Here’s to a life that makes me happy and fulfilled and that’s worth looking forward to. Because only I can make it that way.

What about you? What roadblocks are YOU putting in the way of your happiness?

As always, more lists can be found over at Anna’s at abdpbt!

It’s not quite a pixie cut, but it’ll do.

I feel like I’m having a third-life crisis (ok, so it doesn’t flow as well as mid-life or quarter life, but whatever). Lately I just want all sorts of CHANGE.

I want to change my hair.

I want to change my wardrobe.

I want to change my job.

I want big, drastic changes. Chop all my hair off and dye it pink. Trash all my clothes and buy an all new wardrobe in some funky style. Quit my job and take some dinky, low-stress part time job.

Will I do all those things? No, of course I won’t. Because one of my ever-present traits is that I am “safe” almost to a fault. Have I taken big risks before with my life? Sure I have–moving across country twice without jobs either time was probably not the most stable thing I’ve ever done.

But, I can’t be irresponsible now. It’s one thing if I don’t have health insurance–it’s another entirely to think of the kid not being insured (shudder). It’s one thing if I made stupid financial decisions or recklessly spent my money before I had a family–it’s another thing entirely now that I have other people whose needs I have to consider. So I won’t be charging an all new wardrobe to my credit card, or quitting my career to go work part-time at the local coffee shop. And, because it’s not considered very “professional”, I probably won’t be dying my hair pink either (the cutting off thing may happen though, if I can just get up the nerve).

I don’t know where that leaves me, other than with this overwhelming yearning for something BIG that isn’t coming. I mean, yes, I’m working on that new business idea, but even that doesn’t feel big enough. Drastic enough. Change-y enough. It’ll be fun, but in a lot of ways, it’s just a new version of the same old me.

So for now, I’m in flux, mentally. And I have to find a way to try and tame the urge for change that’s on a constant repeat in my head these days. Because what else can I do, without throwing my family into utter chaos?

I was recently doing some cleaning up of the drafts folder of my blog–you know, deleting the drafts that just had a title but I couldn’t remember what they meant, or the drafts with just a string of words that were obviously meant to be reminders when I finally got around to writing the post but now might as well be an ancient language for all I understand what I meant.

Anyway, I came across this draft that I wrote when I was starting this blog. I never posted it because I didn’t think kicking the blog off on such a random downer note was a good idea. But honestly, this post is part of the origin of this blog, and as such, I thought it’d be fun to read it now, a year and 1/2 later. So enjoy me, circa August 08.

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About a month ago, I set out to re-read the Anne of Green Gables series in honor of the 100 year anniversary of Miss Anne’s arrival in the world. I loved the books as a kid, a teenager, in college, and since I love re-reading comforting old books, it seemed like the perfect summertime activity.

And oh, how it was. Anne was there, just as I remembered her, with all her scrapes and shenanigans and imaginings and whatnot. And her loyalty, and spunk, and friendship, and honesty, and love, and personality. And I loved reading them again.

But something was brewing. Reading the first one sparked a minor twinge in me, a wistfulness I didn’t know how to place. And as I read each subsequent book, it grew stronger and stronger and stronger until I finally realized what it was.

Anne Shirley was making me feel bad about myself.

I know, how lame huh? This kid’s book character making me feel bad about myself? What’s that about? I sure as hell didn’t know, exactly, but I couldn’t shake the feeling. Finally, a few days later, I figured it out.

Anne, though she’s just a character, had such spunk, and personality, and you just KNEW who she was reading those books. And the more I knew who she was, the more I knew that I DIDN’T know who I was.

WTF?

Here is this character who is supremely unique. And people want to know her. And people can’t forget her. And people all remember her laugh, and her spark, and her joy. And, in contrast, sometimes I forget myself—so how memorable must I be to other people?

Yeah, yeah, wah-wah. Poor baby. But it just put this thought in my head that I’m not…visible. I’m not memorable. I don’t have a spark, and haven’t for a while. And while I’ve never craved celebrity, or fame, I don’t want to pass this life as an invisible player.  But then, WHAM, the idea for this blog started brewing, and brewing and brewing. I couldn’t stop thinking about it, contemplating it, wishing for it a little bit-a place for me to discover that person I want to be. A place to be visible.

And so, a month later, here we are, at the corner of insecure and narcissistic. We’ll see where I go with it, but at least I feel energized, for the first time in a long time, about something I’m doing 100% for me.