Tag: ramble

Surprises in Unlikely Places

Last weekend my family and I were deep cleaning our house in preparation for a party. My grandfather’s birthday is October 27th and we’ve agreed to host his birthday dinner at our house. We aren’t necessarily messy people, but we’re a family of four creatives who also have issues with hoarding sentimental objects so our main issue is organization. My dad and I were focused on moving things to storage that no longer needed to be at our house while my sibling and mom focused on cleaning the inside and fixing up some broken appliances. 

My dad and I spent most of our time outside on the side porch. There were two large boxes full of cleaning supplies, caked in dust and grime. After going through them, most were things my mom had been looking for and they were quickly re-organized inside where they belong. There were also two medium sized containers of pet treatments, all of which were 10 or more years old. To my dad’s disappointment, we had to throw away at least one full bottle of flea treatment. 

Once the side porch was cleared of all unnecessary things, my dad swept and dusted as best he could. Later, my sibling and I helped my dad move an outside table from the front porch to the newly cleaned side porch. While we were moving the table, we decided to finally open the large, industrial freezer-shaped box that sits in the corner of the porch. We hadn’t opened it because we assumed it was more outside items that needed to be there, but our curiosity got the best of us. There were a load of unlabeled boxes and bags, none of which needed to sit outside any longer. My dad started rifling through one of the boxes and found a bunch of plates, napkins, utensils, and decorations for a birthday party. We immediately decided to store them for my grandad’s upcoming party. 

My dad pulled out a drawstring bag that had my deadname written on it and handed it to me as he continued to rifle through the trunk. I opened the bag and found at least half of a collection that I had convinced myself I’d lost years ago. Deep in this dirty bag, buried in a trunk out on my porch for the past however many years- my Monster High dolls. There were a few Ever After High dolls and even one My Little Pony doll as well. I was hit with immediate excitement, nostalgia, and indescribable joy. I took the bag inside to begin sorting through what all was in there. It was not my complete collection, but it gave me the confidence that I would find the rest of them. 

First

This is my first post on this blog. There’s a lot of expectations for doing something the “first time,” whether by someone else or yourself.

Part of me is worried; I feel like I’ll start thinking too much and then I’ll never have this post done.

But another part of me is just telling me to go for it- to cast all my worries and doubts and anxiety aside and just do what I need to do.

Every day can be a struggle for someone like me. I care too much, yet I care too little as well. Does that make any sort of sense? I don’t really know.

But I’ve gotten off track. Like I always do with these kinds of things. I end up getting sidetracked by a tangent, and then I don’t remember what I was talking about in the first place. Right now is a prime example, really. I started off by voicing my concerns for having too much expectations for myself.

I feel like I think myself in circles. If I start thinking about my anxiety, I start focusing on it, and that just makes me more anxious. My expectations are too high for myself, I suppose. Or maybe they’re not high enough.

I could talk about all the times that I’ve had to things for the first time, or talk about all the times I’ve had too high expectations for myself; but I would just be distracting myself, and those who are reading this.

I don’t know.

I just want to remind myself that it’s okay to be anxious about doing something for the first time. That everyone feels this kind of anxiety at one point or another- that every person on the earth has had expectations put on themselves by others, or even themselves, like I do so often. I tell myself these things all the time, but I have a hard time listening to myself, even on my “good” days when my anxiety has thankfully left me alone for a little while.

I feel like I don’t listen to myself way too much for my own good. I tell myself, “Hey, you need to get up and go do things that are important,” but I usually end up ignoring it and then I’m rushing to go out the door in the morning. Maybe that’s the root of my anxiety. Maybe it’s just because I have a hard time doing things that are healthy for me to do. Maybe it’s all because I can’t just tell myself to not worry so much.

Or maybe it’s something I couldn’t escape, even if I tried.