I wasn’t going to have a Friday post this week, mainly because I’m lazy and have had awful luck coming up with content ideas lately. Not to mention, all the rain we’ve had the past several days has put some mythical spell over me where all I want to do is sleep and eat.
So there’s that.
Last night, I was sitting in my living room alone after everyone had gone to bed. Ordinarily, this is the time where I read but my eyes were extremely tired and I just couldn’t summon myself to even hit the power button on my Kindle, because effort.
Instead, I sat in silence… except for the sound of the rain, which normally would be all Bob Ross peaceful and happy trees but it’s all I’ve bloody heard for the past few days. So, with rain as my background noise, I sat and I thought.
I feel as if I have hit a point in my life where I am truly starting to get it. And by “it”, I mean me. I’m starting to really understand who I am and actually accept those facts instead of attempting to change them.
Naturally, I made a list of some of the things I have realized about myself lately. This will be one of those blog posts where I just kind of ramble on about life and me and whatnot. So, if that’s not your thing, soz. Catch ya next time.
Things I’ve Realized Recently
I suck at letting go… but I’m getting better.
Ever have those things or friends in your life and there comes a time when they just aren’t good for you anymore? Once recognized, you have a choice to make. Either let go and move on without the toxicity or keep hanging on to what needs to be left behind.
I wish SO BAD that I could be that girl who can say NOPE, THIS ISN’T WORKING FOR ME, BYE.
But, I’m not. I’m the girl that gives not only second chances, but 16th and 17th chances. I will even recognize when something is making me feel like shit and even say WHY DO I DO THIS TO MYSELF?
Because I suck at letting go.
Like seriously. I even cried when my husband got rid of our entertainment center and mounted the TV on the wall. And I’m absolutely a pack-rat when it comes to clothes and momentos.
Forgetting the past isn’t the problem… I can forgive and forget without issue, too easily actually. But having to completely let go of a possible future is where I get stuck.
What if things change? What if they get better? Maybe I’m over thinking and I’m the problem. What if I’m giving up too soon?
All thoughts and questions I’ve had.
Even though I have accepted the fact that I am complete shit at letting go, I do still try to work on it because really, who wants toxicity in their lives?
I try to tell myself, you’ve seen what happens when you give multiple chances or try relentlessly and keep failing. Let’s see what happens when you stop, reroute and take a new path. Why force something or anything that isn’t meant to be?
I really don’t care what people think.
For most of my life, I can pretty much say I valued my own opinion over the opinions of others. Which is how I feel it should be. No one else wakes up as Josie Short and lives my life. No one else pays my bills (although, ya’ll are more than welcome to).
Of course, I went through different stages in my life where I was desperately seeking acceptance from new friends, a boy or those I admired and I feared the judgement of anyone and everyone.
These days? Meh. Fuck em.
Life is too damn short to worry about what other people think.
Obviously, I do care what my very close friends and family think and will often ask for guidance and opinions if I think my choices may have a negative impact on any of them.
But gone are the days where I worry about people’s opinions on my parenting skills, or what I post on social media, or what I did at that wedding reception after consuming far too much booze.
You do you and I promise you, I’ll do me.
Size and weight are just numbers.
Tis no secret that I have dabbled in food and body image issues in the past. I’ll never hide those facts or pieces of my past… it has helped me become who I am today: Josie Short, the brand new 2018 edition.
After starting a healthy weight-loss journey post birthing Rory, I have found how important it is for me to avoid stressing over weight and clothing sizes.
They are merely numbers and they don’t define who I am. They don’t define the hard work I have put in (mentally and physically) to become the best version of myself.
Every once in a while, I’ll have a weak moment and I will weigh myself at the gym and 9/10 times, I regret it. It never shows a number that I like or a number I’m satisfied with.
And tbh, I don’t think that number exists. Because once I hit a number I’m satisfied with, then I want to beat it, go lower, lose more weight. This is the same reason I can’t count calories. One day, I’m eating a healthy 1700-calorie day and next thing you know, I’m Googling HOW MANY CALORIES IN OXYGEN?
When it comes to shopping for clothes, I can fit into pants ranging from size zero to size 6. It took me a bit to become comfortable with the fact that sizes vary from brand to brand and it really doesn’t matter anyway as long as the clothes fit.
I focus on the mirror. Do I like what I see? Do I feel good? Am I happy?
What else matters? Certainly not a number on a scale or a number on a tag.
Books and reading are truly my happy place.
Gah. I’m such a nerd.
I’d love to tell you that I live this super fast-paced life with nights out on the town, drinks with the girls, complete socialite… but I’d be lying.
There is definitely a place in my life for special events, social parties and good Lord there is DEFINITELY a place in my life for drinks (ALL THE DRINKS)… but the majority of the time you can find me on my couch with a book or Kindle in my hands.
I. Love. To. Read.
Can’t stop, wont stop, can never get enough.
For example: currently, I am reading Andrea Dunlop’s She Regrets Nothing on my Kindle, listening to Let Me Lie by Claire Mackintosh on Audible and I just started the paperback print of Simon vs. The Homo Sapiens Agenda by Becky Albertalli.
Yeah, it’s bad.
There is something about opening up a book, reading the pages and being completely transported into a different world that makes me blissfully happy. I used to feel somewhat ashamed of the fact books were so important to me but reading makes me happy, what’s shameful about that?
Books can match my mood, they can stretch my imagination, they can challenge my beliefs and broaden my horizons. And when my real, flesh and blood, life is too much to handle, I can de-stress and escape through the stories and characters of a book.
People tell me all the time that they wished they liked reading and my response is usually that they just haven’t found a genre they are into.
Once you find a type of book you like (whether it be fantasy, romance, thriller, etc.) I promise, it’s hard for anyone to put it down.
Hope you enjoyed this rambling post. Hope you all have a wonderful weekend.