Looking Up

Within the last several months, several of my friends entered into a new phase of life: matrimony. This threw me back to my early my twenties when marriage was a common event for many of my family members, friends and acquaintances. I know life isn't about me, however both periods in my life left doubting feelings of marginalization and self doubt.

The typical questions ricochet back and fourth in my mind.

• What am I doing wrong?
• What is wrong with me?
• Why aren't I loveable?
• Did I do something to make God unhappy with me?
• Is the lack of a relationship punishment?

Because I don't believe on dwelling on the WHY of things, especially when another Preston's choice is involved, I beat back the insidious, uncontructive questions with pragmatic optimism: Everything has a time and a place and doesn't always work on my timeline. Just keep swimming. Thank you, Nemo. Though that mantra had worked successfully for the past 15 years, the most recent events have caused a seemingly unrepairable tear in my spirit abounding in insignificance. 

Another person could fill the footsteps of my life. Friends can easily befriend another friend or spend more time with their spouses and children. Employment can be filled by hundreds of people. My family would miss me, however the my absence would quickly fade. The is no indelible responsibility requiring my presence.

Now, I'm not going to harm myself or make a plan to change my living state. I'm questioning what I'm going to do for the next 50 years that will keep me positively moving forwarde. Do you remember the movie Ground Hog Day, restarting the same day until everything was perfect? That is a little how I currently view the next several decades without the do-overs: get up, go to work, go home, eat, sleep, repeat.

To play the devil's advocate, I'm not a paragon of virtue. I don't remember birthdays. I have difficulty accepting praise (and thinking I can do something well). My immediate family can be challenging. I have insecurities and social anxiety (slight). I can be intimidating upon first meeting. I'm not a hugger. I dislike being emotional vulnerable. Last, I'm probably too hard on myself and do not love myself enough.

With all my verbal vomit out on the web, I want to change how I feel. I know it will take a multi-pronged approach. So, I have some goals to set. Please don't begin shaking your head, muttering, "I could have told you that," as I illuminate my list. Intellectually, been there, done that. My rut of self-loathing and doubt was pretty powerful. In an effort to pull myself from this deep, dark and dank trough, pro activity is called for:

• Exercise. - 5/7 days, 30 minutes cardio
• Pray daily. - totally slacked on this
• Do 2 service oriented actions a week.
• Create once a week.
• Do something new once a week.

5 goals are a lot, but I figured I may double dip on some of the them. Even now I'm feeling optimistic about myself. The one thing I don't yearn for, I think it would be nice, is finding someone (significant other) who would choose only me as I choose only him. This is a little trickier to achieve. Making myself happy and fulfilled will go a long way, giving me a sense of control than feeling as if my life is on a never ending loop without deviation. Say goodbye to Ground Hog Day.

First Attempt

Almost two months ago I moved into a new apartment. For the last several years, I lived with housemates, but I finally decided to go out on my own. Finally. So, with the endeavor of putting my own stamp on my own place, I've been overwhelmed with committing to design choices. In January I purchased 2 charcoal-colored couches that have made me very happy. I also had fabric from PB that I loved. With the charcoal as the main color accented by the multi-colored PB pillows, I feel that I have several design options.

The problem...commitment. I have major commitment issues when it comes to placing decor on the walls, buying fabric, and buying furniture. I just don't trust my self when it comes to my design/decor decisions. I jokingly, and honestly, refer to myself as a crappy crafter. Whatever I create typically turns out a little crappy, which is very frustrating.

So, with the double desire to 1) place something on my walls and 2) create art I painted my first piece of abstract art. I'm really loving the color orange. I bought 3 colors of acrylic paint: a burnt orange, mustard yellow, and white. I created the following canvas. It is 16X20.

The Beginning

For awhile, I've been wanting to blog, but I've felt that it is so cliche. Many of my closest friends (with spouses and children) blog about their families, the new developments of their growing and tiny offspring, their growing bellies, spouses' new jobs, home improvements, and navigating the obstacles, and network of stay at home mom-ship. For me, that is not going to work.

Other friends have food blogs (or "food porn" as a good friend coins it). They complete the cake challenge; host multiple events where there is food preparation. Or they are just foodies, loving to mix and match flavors. Again, I'm not that committed or driven about food. I like to benefit from others' focused food blogging.

Then there are still others who just blah, blah, blah. I think I might be one of those bloggers, yet this particular population also has a theme. It could be workplace conundrums, fashion, or saving the planet. Again, not that driven.

As a jack of all trades and a mastery of nothing, my interests are not deep, rarely photogenic, nor interesting to anything one else beyond my sphere of influence, if you would even call it influence.