Today.
Today I have put on my big girl pants.
I’ve been blaming lockdown for my lack of motivation, my ‘woe is me’ moments and my general mopey behaviour. But truth is, its been there for years on and off. I’ve got into this horrible habit of living for everyone else. Planning my life around my friends or husband, fitting in time for me only if its convenient for them.
I’m also never happy. I live for goals, believing the next thing I achieve is going to be the big thing that makes me happy. But honestly, it never does. No, my degree wasn’t enough, nor my house, nor my perfect wedding. Not because I’m unhappy, but because l cant live in the moment. I reside myself to dreaming about the next stage of my life, hoping instead that will change everything, based on ill informed comparisons of others fairytale lifestyles. Forgetting that so much goes on behind closed doors. Moping and dreaming does not equate to actual, positive change.
So why am I listing my problems? Writing them out for strangers to scowl at on some internet post. The answers simple; accountability. I need something to force me to carry on when my motivation stops, and this might just be it.
For as long as I remember I wanted to be an author, my nanny was a published poet and as I child I’d spend hours writing with her. I have so many god awful stories and poems I wrote as a child, believing in myself one thousand times more than I ever have done as an adult. But today that changes. Today I will believe in myself, and tomorrow this will (hopefully) help to hold myself accountable.
Today I put on my big girl pants and decided I will finally write that book. Not for money, the next step, or anything to change. Just for me, because I will regret not telling my story. Even if it is still god awful.
