Recently I updated my 20’s Bucket List from two years ago and I feel alright about what I’ve accomplished from that list. (It’s worth noting I still have 4 1/2 years to finish my bucket list, but as you’ll soon learn, I’m really hard on myself.) The goals requiring travel are the only items I haven’t really touched on. Bryce and I made a plan, a much higher priority than the bucket list, to start saving money and paying down debt. And when those are the priorities, well my friend, travel just isn’t much of an option. I’m okay with that…for now. I still want to make sure it’s a priority for my near future to get out and see the places on my wish list (which have definitely changed since I wrote the bucket list).
I have to say, the green-eyed monster has really been getting to me lately. Mainly in the financial department which is all encompassing, but my jealousy is really focused on the things people are DOING in their lives. Not for work–for play. I mentioned to Bryce, I feel like the most exciting thing we do is go out to dinner at great restaurants. And don’t get me wrong, that’s absolutely my idea of a good time. I just feel like I have no hobbies or adventures. Some of it has to do with our current priorities; some of it is not knowing what to do with myself. What hobby would I even start?!
I can be really hard on myself. Writing is my torture and my therapy. At all times you can find a writing pad, a planner and a small journal with me. I write down all of the things I need and want to do in much more graphic detail than I would ever share here (not to mention all of the blog drafts that will never see the light of day). And the pages taunt me until they’re accomplished. But, of course, they can never be accomplished because I’m the one determining if they’ve been met; I can’t imagine ever feeling they’re finished. Yet within the same hour I can move to my journal, dive a bit deeper, write what I’m grateful for and it heals me a little bit. Writing balances me but I still sway and sometimes fall. The past few days I’ve been torturing myself over my own perceived lack of accomplishments. When I step back from myself I’m astounded at just how influenced I am by others. I can logically know everything is going well in my life, but I compare myself for one second to someone else and I fall off my tightrope. And the pages fill up again with what I need to do to be good enough. Good enough for who? Good enough for what? I’ll never know.
I realize I’m far from alone in feeling this way. But doesn’t it feel so lonely? Like you’re the most boring, unaccomplished person in the world? How do you deal with your confidence tightropes and green-eyed monsters? Oh and…hobby suggestions?