I’ve been feeling kind of mopey this week, just kind of crabby and maybe even a little bit sad. Nothing specific has happened, but, I don’t know, did you ever get the feeling that no matter what you do, nothing will ever be good enough?
I’ve lost weight in the past year, and yet, when I go shopping to find some work-appropriate attire that actually fits instead of falling off my body, all I can think is I still don’t look good. Instead of feeling proud that I literally NEED to buy some new pants, lest I want my co-workers to get an unexpected glimpse of my pink polka-dot underwear, I berate myself for not looking perfect in whatever I am trying on. And don’t even get me started about my ill-fated bathing suit shopping experience a few weeks back. Four words: Dressing. Room. Melt. Down.
I’ve cracked down on my budget, too – planning better for expenses, actually saving a decent amount each and every month, paying off debt. I’ve had some unexpected income and have made significant progress in changing my attitude about spending. And yet – I feel defeated. I think ‘if only’. If only I had planned better when I was in college. If only I hadn’t had to pay for this or that. If only, if only…
I’m making a lot of progress toward a healthier lifestyle. In the past, I’ve been a fan of the ‘all junk food and no exercise, please’ way of life. Now, I eat fruits and vegetables every day. I don’t crave junk food. I am shocked when I think about what I used to eat on a regular basis. I exercise somewhat regularly, and I’ve found things that I actually enjoy instead of dread, like pilates and dancing. But I still don’t feel like it’s enough.
I’m well-respected at work and I’m damn good at my job. I’ve been promoted, and I’ve received awards. And yet, when I sit in a meeting and don’t know the answer to something, all I can think is, “You idiot.”
I don’t know why I can’t be happy with myself and content with where I am and what I’ve done. Is this the curse of being a self-motivated person? I’ve never needed anyone to put pressure on me to do anything, because I put enough of it on myself. But is it too much? Will I spend the rest of my life constantly feeling like I need to be better and smarter? I don’t want to do that. What’s the use of working this hard if I can’t enjoy it?
Blah. Being all sullen and moody really isn’t my thing. So here’s a little funny story to end an otherwise grouchy post:
Many of you may not know that in New Jersey, it is illegal to pump your own gas. Every gas station is full service. Being from NJ, I did not pump my own gas until after college (as I didn’t have a car when I was in college). I really don’t enjoy it – I hate when the pump is broken, or the machine doesn’t read my card, and of course it’s always freezing as you are standing trying to get some juice for your car. But, whatever, it’s just one of life’s small annoyances and I deal with it.
Well, on Easter Sunday, Matt and I were going to his parent’s house. I was driving and as usual, I had no gas, so we had to stop on the way. I go to this gas station all the time, because it’s really convenient. So I pull up to the pump, and go to get my gas. The thing pumps about 2 gallons worth and then – gas starts spewing out of the side of the nozzle thingie! Yikes! So, I don’t know about you, but MY immediate reaction was to scream at the top of my lungs and make the thing stop as fast as I could. (It’s pretty embarassing that I would scream in this situation, but, you know what? I’m a girl and I’m allowed to act like one sometimes.)
After the scream, Matt got out of the car to see what was going on, and I told him, and he went inside to tell the gas station man while I went wiped gas off the side of my car (I don’t really know why I did that, but it seemed like the right thing to do). Then, I went to the gross gas station bathroom to wash my hands. (Now we’re getting to the good part.) When I came out of the bathroom, Matt was talking to a police officer! I came over to find out what was going on, and the man told me that he was parked next to the gas station and he heard me scream and got concerned!
How embarassing. Now, not only am I a stupid Jersey Girl who can’t pump gas properly, but I scream about it and now have to explain to a cop that no, Matt wasn’t beating me, I am just an idiot. Sometimes I even amaze myself.