My glass

October 5, 2010

To be quite honest, I have finally embraced the fact that I am, and probably always have been, a “glass half empty” kind of gal.  Not that I focus on what I don’t have.  Not that I don’t know how blessed I am — because I do know.  I’m not an idiot, after all.  My family is made up of my favorite people ever, hands down.  My husband, my vibrant and effervescent children, my parents, my brothers…  they are all hyper-talented and can make me laugh until my belly hurts and the tears stream down my face.  I don’t have everything I want, but I certainly have everything I need, and that is the right place to be.

This half-glass state of being is more of a day-to-day frame of mind.  So I end up undermining my own accomplishments, minor though they are, because I am wrapped up in all the things I haven’t done, didn’t make time for, didn’t finish, and didn’t do right.

If I were taking the half-full perspective, I would be satisfied with what I do regularly.  It’s a short list, but I think it speaks volume about where my priorities lie.  I exercise every day.  I read to my kids every day.  I do a load of laundry, I put a hot meal (even if it’s simple) in front of my kids.  I eat 5 (well, 4) servings of fruit and veggies.  I drink decaf.  I work very hard at a very busy job.  I talk to my mother.

The list of what I don’t do, however, is bringing me down.  So I’m feeling discouraged these days.  I keep thinking that some day I’ll have time to ______ and yet here I am, facing another birthday and feeling just a little bit uneasy because I’m getting pretty damn old and I still don’t seem to be finding time to catch up.  Curtains and pictures still aren’t up in this house.  My magazines sit unread since Max (now 3 1/2) was born.  The guitar is gathering dust.  My projects sit in their little bags, unfinished.  (Would I even be able to pick them up and them at this point?)  Photos are stored in a plastic bin while the lovely albums are all empty.

Do my friends know that I care about them and think about them daily?  I hope so.  Does a layer of dust on everything hurt anyone?  I hope not. Do Ritz crackers, bananas, and milk count as a decent breakfast?  Arrgghh.

Am I going to be a 70-year-old woman and think I made the right choice, choosing to exercise instead of doing something else with that hour?  That is probably the question I ask more and more these days.  I’ve always believed that getting this fitness in is what makes it possible to do the rest of what I do every day — and it’s a long, long day, just like it is for most parents, especially moms that I know.

These are not inspiring thoughts.  They are gloomy dark questions.  I’m running in place and getting behind.  And there my glass sits on my dusty table, half empty.

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One Response to “My glass”

  1. kt Says:

    I say: Recycle those magazines and embrace your choices! By putting yourself first, you are extending your life and expanding your happiness level.


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