I have spent a lot of today (and a lot of yesterday) in a
funk about my 30 day plan. At least I think that’s what my funk is about.
Blogging every day is a pain. I have a list of topics to write about, but a lot
of them require more dedicated time and thought than I seem to be able to
muster. “Running” is still mostly walking, and apparently have to get special
fancypants running shoes for my flat feet. My list of nagging tasks has gotten
longer instead of shorter. I have started making these cute Kindle covers to
sell on Etsy, so now my dining room is cluttered with fabric and sewing stuff.
Despite my efforts to declutter my house, it still seems to be a mess all the
time. My oven just broke. I do laundry every day and the hampers are always
full. My kids don’t have school all week. My dog forgot she is supposed to be
housebroken. Bitch and moan, bitch and moan.
I hate feeling like this. I feel like my efforts aren’t
getting anywhere. That my bad habits can’t be changed. That I complain too
much. My husband keeps telling me that I harp on the negatives and dismiss the
positive changes I have made. He is probably right. This 30 day plan is as much
an effort to change my attitude about the futility or value of my efforts as it
a way to force me to follow through with what I said I would do. I need to
really, REALLY try to notice the positive changes I have made. I am exercising
more and eating better and getting all those nagging tasks down on paper where
I can address them rather than just letting them rattle around my head. I am
focusing some of my creative energy into something people actually want to buy.
Things are slowly improving. Too slowly for me.
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