Posts Tagged ‘ moving on ’

Mind Over Matter.

I’m back to reading self-help/self-improvement books again because, well, I just feel so damn good while reading them. They give me things to think about and help teach me new ways to keep my mentality positive.

Anyway, I’m reading Jen Sincero’s new book, You are a Badass at Making Money, because I loved the original You are a Badass [which I highly recommend. It changed my life, go read it if you haven’t yet], and yes, I’m reading a book about making money. Why not? I’m twenty-five, fresh out of college, the world is my oyster, and I’d like to have the means to do the shit I want to do.

So one of the things she writes about is how our subconscious view of money can impact the way we feel about making money, and because I am the way I am, I set the book down and started applying that same idea to basically every part of my life that I’m still struggling with.

The brain solidifies what occurs the most. For example, I wound up in a string of relationships that all ended badly. So for the past five years I haven’t bothered with dating because I’ve just assumed it’s all going to be the same bullshit and I don’t want to go through with it again. I stopped looking for dates. I just kept my head down and convinced myself that relationships are overrated.

All is fine until life throws you a curveball to knock you out of your comfort zone. Then you find yourself spending half a semester fighting an internal war about how the cute guy sitting next to you is probably an idiot or a douchebag so there’s no point in talking to him, and if by some miracle he’s neither an idiot nor a douchebag, he’s probably not interested because you’re not that attractive or intelligent anyway.

I’m sorry, WHAT.

I’m so neurotic sometimes it makes me want to scream and then start laughing at myself because of how ridiculous it all is.

Just because all you’ve known in relationships is immaturity, lying, and manipulation, doesn’t mean they’re all going to be that way. Growing up helps, learning to pick better partners helps too.

At one point in time, when I was practicing multiple hours a day, I was a really talented musician. However, actually admitting that was incredibly hard for me because I felt like I was bragging. It shouldn’t really be a shocker that the performances where I amped myself up by telling myself how talented and kickass I was before I walked out on stage went SIGNIFICANTLY better than the ones where my backstage thoughts were about how I had no business performing this incredibly hard piece that only seniors play (I was a sophomore.) When I thought that I was good enough to do it, I nailed it. When I felt like I was a fraud, I sucked. Obviously this was all going on during my mental health decline so that didn’t help much, but you get the idea.

Mentality plays a huge role in everything that you do.

Decide it’s going to be a good day, and it will be.

Tell yourself that you suck and are never going to have your shit together, and you’ll probably be right.

What’s that old saying? “Whether you think you can, or you think you can’t, you’re right,”? Maybe there’s something to that.

Let go of the past. It’s over. It happened. Learn from it and move the fuck on. Don’t let shit that happened when you were nineteen affect the way you view the world and live your life at twenty-five.

I don’t know where I’m going with this. I just had a lot of thoughts so I started typing and now I’m here. That’s probably enough for now. I’m gonna get back to this book. Also I’ve had way too much caffeine today, so I apologize for any run-on sentences. Peace.

 

Declutter.

I’m about a month an a half away from moving out of an apartment I’ve been living in for the past two years. It’s the longest I’ve ever lived in the same place, and it’s pretty easy to say that I have acquired some shit while living here. Exhausted from browsing through job listings and applying for a few new opportunities, I decided to do something that always makes me feel a lot better: clean.

The thing is, my apartment isn’t that messy. But I realized that I should start going through the shelves in my closet and also everything I’ve stashed in my storage closet, just to make the move a little easier.

I finally parted ways with six pairs of old platform heels that have stood atop the Bohemia bar on several occasions. Those shoes were so damaged, and they weren’t cheap heels either. However, they look like crap and I only wear heels for special occasions nowadays, so it was time to finally throw them away.

I also packed up some clothes that aren’t my style anymore. I held onto them because I knew eventually I would lose enough weight that I’d be able to wear them again, and I was right. I can wear them now. But I tried those old fitted Express button down shirts and looked at myself in the mirror, and it just wasn’t me anymore. So they’re in a donation bag.

I wasn’t ready to be done with my decluttering expedition yet, so I decided to take on my storage closet, which currently resembles Monica Geller’s secret closet. It’s the place I throw things that I don’t know what to do with. I saved boxes from moving in, and also have saved other boxes over the past two years for when I decide to move again. I started pulling things out and came across a box full of random things: some Nyquil that had expired, a lint roller, Christmas bows, and a small silver ring box.

I knew what it was, I had just completely forgotten that it still existed.

I think I threw it in the closet when I first moved in here, because I had no idea what to do with it. It didn’t feel right sitting on my dresser with the rest of my rings and jewelry, and I didn’t know if I should throw it away or try to sell it. So I put it in a random box and threw it into the whatever closet.

I actually put it on, and it’s still my size.  Silver ring with three heart shaped amethyst stones: the ring that I had picked out when a man I once loved promised that one day we’d get married.

It’s comical now. The ring doesn’t look anything like something I would currently wear. Nevermind the fact that my entire life, with the exception of the two years I spent in that relationship, I had/have always thought promise rings were kind of stupid. It’s a precursor ring to your engagement ring. What’s the point?

But I was eighteen and thought I had found the one, which actually just made me laugh out loud while typing that. I remember the day he made that heartfelt speech. I also remember the months that followed. I remember growing up and feeling more like a babysitter than a girlfriend. I remember it all falling apart, along with my belief that love is real. It was a breakup that took a few years to recover from, and I didn’t even realize that I needed to get over it until a couple of years later.

It’s just funny how life works out. I’ve spent the past hour going through clothes that I can’t believe I ever wore, and throwing out shoes that I’m not entirely sure how I used to dance and prance about Kirksville in, so it’s kind of fitting that I would come across a ring that also looks nothing like me.

My life could have been so different if I’d just been a little more traditional. Hell, I’d probably be married by now.

But where’s the fun in that?

 

Real talk though, what the hell do I do with this ring? Toss it? Sell it? Throw it into Mt. Doom?