Here we are, one month into 2019. I’m sitting in the Starbucks in my hometown, waiting on the oatmeal I ordered and am sure they forgot about, debating if I really even care enough to go ask about it. I don’t have the motivation for that… let alone things I feel like I should want to do. Writing, finally getting active so I can lose the 25 pounds I managed to put on between graduating college and now, finishing the handful of shows I started watching, anything. More and more I just find that I don’t care or have the energy to care.
I know some of it is because I don’t want to do something half way. Hubby asks why I don’t sit down and blog like I want, I respond by saying I don’t have the things I think would make my posts as good as the ones my favorite Youtubers and Instagramers put out. I only have a phone to take pictures. I can’t splurge on all the latest things to review. We live in a small town in the middle of nowhere, Eastern North Carolina. My life is boring and no one would care anyway. Why do it?
If we moved to a big town, we would have events to go to and fun places to visit. If I got a second job, I could use that income to supply myself with content. If I got a better camera I could take better pictures. It’s always “if” and before I know it, a month has gone by and I’ve not done anything.
I’m still the same weight, my blog is still empty, and all I’m left with is regret that I let a month that I could have been productive with slip away. I fear that before I know it, I’ll have grown old and wasted my entire life on wishing I’d done the things I wanted.
So this year, instead of telling myself I’m going to write one blog a week or lose 5 pounds a month, or read 25 books before next year, I want to take it one day at a time and enjoy each day as it happens instead of regretting what I didn’t get done. I can’t promise that means I’ll post a ton, so I guess let’s see what happens.
Maybe my motivation will come back, maybe it won’t. But I guess there’s no use in beating myself up about it.