New Year, New Me?

Familiar, anyone?

I have this thought every. single. new. year. Grand plans in my head of what I want to do better, what I want to fix, what I want to accomplish. Seriously, I have bought and started a new journal every January for the last 4 years. I have felt a fire in my gut for something new with each passing new years’ day since I can remember. My goal for 2018, my 30th year on this earth? Run a half marathon. I even signed up and paid the entry fee (when I absolutely did not have the money to spare) thinking that would be enough motivation to actually train and make it happen. I had four full months to properly train. I bought new shoes and had custom inserts fit to my feet. I utilized the free gym at my office complex. … Did I run that half marathon? What do you think? (That answer is a big, fat NOPE, in case you were still unsure.)

If there is one thing I am known for (besides my deviled eggs) is that I never finish anything I start. Running a half marathon? An exercise regimen? Starting a blog (ha)? Starting a YouTube beauty channel? All the things! I’ve never studied myself in-depth enough to take a look at why I do this. I think I was just passively living my life, not truly mindful of all my decisions (or lack thereof). Not until recently.

Just like there are a million and one blogs out there, there seems to be a million and one motivational gurus. All the podcasts and books and conferences that you pay a sh*t ton of money for for strangers to all tell you the same thing: you can do it (!! *waves pom-poms*). You can be, do, accomplish, whatever your heart desires… as long as you work for it. Now, I’ve read and listened to that preached to me in one way or another every new year that I can remember for my entire adult life. And let me tell you, it never worked. I am one seriously cynical person, and I was 100% that person in the back of the preverbal room snickering and making jokes at all of this “no one can love you like you love yourself” mumbo-jumbo. Did I think I was better than the people that this did work on? Absolutely not. If I was honest with myself, I would have realized that I was probably a little jealous that it DID help them see their light and motivate them to be better. I just wasn’t one of those people.

For those that don’t know, I am an avid reader, with 98% of my book collection being fiction. I prefer to lose myself in a made-up world rather than dive into the history of one our society has already lived. However, over the last couple of years I have found that I honestly enjoyed reading books in the personal development section. Now, that absolutely did not stop me from being the person I described above, but a part of me felt just a little bit better and a little bit more motivated to try something I never had before with each book I read. Again, I totally didn’t finish ANYTHING I set out to do after reading those books, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t still affect me in some way. So, when I decided to pick up Girl, Wash Your Face by Rachel Hollis, it came as no surprise to me that I would be into it. I’d loved almost all of the personal development books I had read in the past, no matter that they didn’t work. The difference with GWYF? I honestly have no idea. I mean, I could probably come up with a few things, but overall I can’t say there was one light bulb moment that stood out for me to make it the kick in the pants I needed versus what I had read before. And maybe that is the light bulb? Rachel is 100% honest in her book when she says that she is not the creator of this dialogue. She is 1 of millions to sit behind a computer and write a book to motivate women to be better. And maybe that’s why I love it? She isn’t trying to pass off as new something I already bought. She acknowledges that. She knows she isn’t the first to the table. But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t have something to say. That doesn’t mean that she can’t tell it to you in her own way. And that is exactly what she did. And it worked.

Since I finished reading GWYF just before NYE, I feel like a different person. That sounds so, completely cliche, but I don’t know what to tell you. I’m not a different person. I’m not new and transformed. But, I FEEL like I’m getting there. That’s something I have NEVER felt in the last however many years. I have a drive to start and write this blog. I have a drive to get up every morning at 5:00am to work out and write in my journal. I have a drive to eat as clean as possible Monday-Friday. The list goes on. One thing (among many) that Rachel says all the time is: Hope is not a strategy. Hope is not going to give me a second income so I can pay off my debt. Hope is not going to launch this blog into the stratosphere. Hope is not going to earn me those oh-so-elusive abs. Hope is not a strategy.

I don’t mean for this post to turn into a fangirling review of GWYF (though let’s be honest, if I ever meet Rachel Hollis I will TOTALLY be fangirling). The point of this post is to be honest with you about who I am. I am the girl that never finishes anything. I am the girl that has wanted to launch a blog for YEARS and let fear and a lack of motivation (read: laziness) stand in the way of that happening. I am the girl that procrastinates the smallest of things because I’m terrified the outcome won’t be positive. I am the girl that hides that fear with cynicism and snark. Yet, here I am. Don’t get me wrong, I am still terrified. I put on a great act of having a thick skin, but I am not in denial that it is probably much thinner than I let on. Yet again, here I am. Our dreams, our goals they take work. HARD. WORK. Life is already hard. So why am I just surviving it? Life is hard and I can work hard through it to see my goals take fruition. No one is going to get them there but me. Not my husband, not my parents, not my friends. ME.

So take this as my way of motivating myself to keep going. I have put this out in the world. I am holding myself accountable. The best way we can teach our children is through our actions, not our words. One of the last things in this world that I want for my son is to be a quitter. Yet, how is he supposed to know any different unless I show him?

My husband, my Mom, and a few friends may be the only ones reading this, but hey, that’s still an audience. So when all of you pass me in the hall at work or call me this evening, be sure to ask me if I woke up at 5:00am this morning.

Until next time…