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Yesterday I had the pleasure of being liked by lesleycarter on two different posts of mine, so I went to go check out her blog. Wow! Was I impressed! She is a total adventurer, who seems to live life to the max. She travels, does extreme sporting, and has even been named the “most exciting woman on earth” by another blogger. (This, being meant as an opposing female character to the Dos Equis beer commercial featuring ‘the most interesting man in the word.’) In addition, she is 7 months pregnant, like me.
Knowing that she will probably read this post, as I attached a pingback, it is a little bit of a struggle to express my honest feelings, but this is a truth blog, so here we go.
As I was reading over her blog, I began to feel small. Small and insignificant. She has accomplished so much with her life. She’s set out to do it, and has done it. And now, while still in the midst of it all, she seems to have a momentum carrying her into greatness, where the sky isn’t even the limit. Even with her blog, that she set up 6 months ago (and it’s a great blog that offers a lot to it’s readers) she already has over 7,783 followers. Complete success.
I can’t help but compare myself to her.
I have a huge desire in my life to be an adventurer. To live life to it’s fullest, devouring every piece of every moment. To get outside of my comfortable little world of the mundane, and to experience life. I have even said to my husband, I want to be the most interesting woman in the world, like the Dos Equis guy.
When I read about her, I became strikingly aware of how much I DO NOT do this, but instead, just sit around and dream about doing it. And sadly, I know it is entirely my fault. Why is it so hard for me to act on such a huge desire of mine?
Physically, I have three, almost four children and a very limited budget. But I feel as those these things could be overcome if I set my mind to it. My mind… that seems to be my biggest issue. I tend to explain away my dreams as being meaningless and shallow, therefore never being able to really fulfill me in any way, so why bother. In the abstract, everything can look pointless and not very exciting. Everything can be explained away. But is it reality?
An example of reality would be when I set out to run a 5k last year. I’d never run one, and was entirely out of shape. So I started the Couch to 5k program and signed myself up for a race 3 months away. It was a challenge for me. I remember running the first week of intervals, which are 60 seconds of running and 90 seconds of walking for 20 min., and thinking how far I was from actually completing a 5k. But I stuck to it. And as each week passed, I grew more confident and proud of myself. And when race day came, I ran the entire thing without stopping! Sure, there were old people, and dad’s pushing strollers who beat me, but for me it was about finishing. I was so proud of myself.
Later that day, we went to a barbecue at a friend’s house, and everyone heard I’d run a 5k that morning. That’s when the stories came out about all the 5k’s everyone there had run, and the time’s they’d run them in. I felt completely dwarfed. I suddenly felt like this monumental obstacle I’d just overcome was really very normal and boring, and I was ashamed.
You see, there’s this deep, deep desire in me to be unique. I can’t stand the thought of being normal. And I think because of this desire, I am paralyzed. Instead of looking at life through my own eyes, I’m looking at my life as how it compares to other’s lives. Will it be insignificant to go skydiving because so many people have been skydiving too? Will the things I love turn out to be what every other normal mom loves? So instead of asking myself what’s exciting to me, I ask, “What will make me exciting in a different way?” And when I ask that question, the answer I get is: nothing. Because I can always point to a person who’s been there, done that.
I think another ache in my heart, is that I just don’t believe in myself. I fear that I’m not as tall in reality as I am in my mind. I fear that I will set out to accomplish something, and if failure hints at me in any way, I’ll give up. Or my attention span will give out.
I also fear the story of God. What if God does have a story? Then, I fear that all my attempts to follow the desires of my heart will be blocked by his will for me. And so unless I figure out what his will is and follow that, then why try? (Now you can see why telling myself God is Satan. I am Truth is so freeing.)
And so I’m am rendered useless by my mind.
What am I going to do about this? I don’t know yet. But I’m going to think about it, and try try try to break free. There must be a solution.
In this moment, this is my truth.
-Tara
