A Meaningful December

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“How did it get so late so soon? It’s night before it’s afternoon.  December is here before it’s June.  My goodness how the time has flewn.  How did it get so late so soon?” ~Dr. Seuss

December is usually the month where people let their hair down.  It’s the month where you can go a little crazy.  People tend to be happier, mostly because of the holidays.  It’s the time to eat, drink and be merry.  It’s the time to get in all our bad habits and bad decisions before the new round of “New Year’s Resolutions” begin.  It may even be when you try to accomplish all the things you set out in last year’s resolutions.
All of the above are true for me, usually.  I use December and the holidays as an excuse to be a little lazier, eat a little more, drink a little more, be a little messy, work out a little less and sleep a little more.  It’s a trap I fall into and then wind up hating myself for by the end of the month.
I decided that I didn’t want to do that this month.  I’m not going to sit around and let myself slowly slide back into complacency.  I have worked too hard the past couple weeks to get myself back to where I need to be, to get myself back on the right track.  Now that I am back on the right track I need to stay there.  No excuses.  So I’m using December as my starting off point for my New Year’s Resolutions.  The best part about a resolutions is that you can make them at any time of the year, month, day, ect.  I think we all get hung on on time that way.  I failed this month, I’ll try again next month.  I already ruined my diet, I’ll start again next Monday.  I didn’t wake up to run, I’ll just try again tomorrow.
But really, if you think about it, the things I want to accomplish are not even New Year’s Resolutions.  They are life changes, life goals, things to make my world a little better.  And really I only have one: Get rid of all the clutter.
Now when I say ALL the clutter, I mean it; physical, emotional, and social.
Physical Clutter:
I have way to much crap.  I realized this when I was cleaning for Thanksgiving.  We have broken toys all around the house.  Things the kids played with once and then never again.  I have shoes and clothes I have not worn in an embarrassing number of years (think pre-kids).  I tend to hold on to things thinking I might need them again.  And sometimes I do.  But most times I don’t.  It’s time to start going through everything and donate the things we don’t want or need anymore and trash or recycle the things that are broken.
Physical Clutter (2):
I feel like now that I actually have my gym routine down I need to keep it there.  Gym in the morning, running at night.  Take a day off only if needed (though with the Running Streak, I have to do it anyway).  No getting on the scale and letting myself get down.  As a matter of fact, no scale at all (I’ll weigh in again on January 1).  Only drink once a week. Eat healthy, but no over analyzing.  If I want the french fry I’ll eat it, I just won’t eat 100 of them.  Everything is OK in moderation.
Emotional Clutter:
It’s time to let go, I mean really let go, of things that I have no control over.  Whether my worries or obsessions are from the past, present or future, it’s time to concentrate on the things that I can actually do something about.  It’s time to move on from the things that, no matter what a do, the outcome won’t change.  And when I do, it’s time to use that new found time to start thinking about the direction I want to go and make it happen.  Do I still want to be a teacher? Do I still want to live in Baltimore?  It’s time to find the answers and get the ball rolling to make them happen.
Social Clutter:
Between Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, my blog, and on and on and on, I know I waste a lot of time.  Just last night, when it was time to go for my run, I was thinking that I just didn’t have time.  But I did.  I just preferred to use that time playing on Facebook or playing candy crush.  Right now, I literally have a Facebook tab open so I can see any new notifications as they come in.  Somethings got to give.  So I think, at least for the month of December, it’s going to be Facebook.  Twitter and Instagram really don’t waste a lot of my time.  Games that I enjoy likes Words with Friends don’t really take more than a moment.  And writing in my blog is sometimes the only sanity I have.  I really do feel like it is addicting at times.  I wish I had the willpower to just say I won’t use it, but I know I don’t.  Maybe once December is over I’ll be able to gradually ease back in, but I don’t know.  It will be interesting to see how well I fair when I can’t facebook stalk people or get offended by political posts, or get jealous when I see people doing things without me.  And really, if people really want to get in touch with me during this month, they will.  And vice versa.  I shouldn’t need to rely on Facebook to stay in people’s lives.
It’s also time to simply stop making a social effort all the time.  I always feel obligated to go to or participate in any event in which I am invited.  And I have to learn to say no.  I have to learn to say no to non-required obligations I don’t feel like attending.  I have to say no when my plate is already full and someone else is asking me to do something.  I have to learn that it’s ok to take time for myself.
I guess that’s it.  I’m dubbing December as “No Clutter December”.  It’s time to start simplifying my life.
In case you need the info since I won’t be on Facebook starting later this evening:
Blog: http://hereswhatimtryingtosay.wordpress.com/
Twitter: @greatcasserini
Instagram: @clstegman
Or you can play me in Words with Friends (Great Casserini) 🙂

Throw Back Sunday (an oldie, but goodie about marriage).

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I wrote this post over a year ago on my old blog.  A YEAR AGO.  I identified these problems a year ago and still have not done enough to solve them. 

*Hangs head in shame*

I have been home for the past five days because of Hurricane Sandy.  It’s been nice being able to spend so much time at home and with the kids (really, I’m not being sarcastic).  Of course, every night when they have gone to bed I have spent many hours reading, knitting, and playing on the internet.  I actually started about 5 different blog posts as well, but something made me want to spend more time on this one today.  On one of my MANY Pinterest visits I came across an article called “16 Ways I Blew My Marriage” It was written by a man so I figured I could get a lot of information from it, showing new ways that I am right in our arguments, but my husband was wrong.

As I began reading (and continued through the entire list of 16), I realized this article actually detailed all the ways that I was creating strife and conflict in our marriage.  It really did hit me hard and I have spent a lot of time thinking about this article the past few days. Below are a list of the 10 things from Dan’s article that I identified with the most with an explanation of how I am currently ruining things.  You can find his complete post in the link above.

1. Don’t Stop Holding Hands

I am terrible at this.  We held hands so much in the beginning, but now, not so much, and it is entirely my fault.  I don’t know why.  Maybe it’s the fact that I have two littles vying for my hands now as well?  I don’t know.  Point is, I need to stop thinking that my kids are the only ones that need a little affection.

2. Don’t Stop Trying to Be Attractive

Guilty as charged again.  As a kindergarten teachers most of clothes are practical and stained.  On the week-ends I tend to wind up in khakis and jeans.  I do have make-up and jewelry and nice clothes, which, for some reason I only wear when going  out with friends.  Why?  Again, I don’t know, but maybe if I tried a little harder I would gain the confidence that I seem to be missing as well.

3. Don’t Always Point Out Weaknesses

For some reason I was under the assumption that all my nitpicking was good.  In my head I was challenging him to be a better person.  Now, I realize, I was just tearing down.  I truly believe that spouses are supposed to challenge each other and you should want to be a better person for your spouse, but at what expense?  Not at the expense of love, happiness, and self esteem.

4 & 5. Don’t Yell at Your Spouse or Call Names

This is the number one on my list.  No explanation needed.  I need to stop.  Period. Especially in front of the kids.  Enough said.

6. Don’t be Stingy With Your Money

I do this all the time.  How many times do I spend $7 on a cup of coffee from Starbucks (yup, I said $7) only to yell at him for buying a soda at 7-11.  I know why do it.  I am a control freak.  I need to be in control of EVERYTHING.  Only I don’t.  And I need to sit back, and let go sometimes.

7. Don’t Argue in Front of the Kids

I’m stealing Dan’s words here because I can’t write it better. “There was never any argument that was so important or pressing that we couldn’t wait to have it until the kids weren’t there. I don’t think it takes a rocket scientist or super-shrink to know why fighting in front of the kids is a dangerous and selfish way of doing things.

8. Don’t Encourage Each Other to Skip Working Out

We should want each other to be the best versions of ourselves, and I would hope that he would do the same.  Maybe, though, this is one of those things we can start doing together.

9. Don’t Stop Kissing

I know this isn’t just me and happens to most of my married friends.  When you work full time and have two kids everything becomes a time crunch and I always feel like every minute of every day should be filled doing something useful and kissing simply takes up those minutes. But I have to remember that spending time connecting with my husband is also useful.

10. Don’t Stop Having Fun Together

The kids have great grandparents in the fact that they spend a lot of time over there and are usually gone one night a week.  And what do we do? Watch TV, play on the computer, sleep.  I have to remember that there are a ton of things we can do that don’t require money and would probably help build up our relationship.

So, now the challenge comes to start to make things better.  Identification of the problem is half the battle, right?

The Blind leading the “Blind”

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“It is never too late to become what you might have been.” ~George Eliot

This isn’t the original post I was going to write today.  It was actually going to be quite different.  To make a long story short it was going to be about how I failed at running yet again.  I went for a run last night and only managed to make it a mile before I had to quit.  My knee was killing me.  I was mad and angry, not only at myself for not being able to complete what I set out to do, but also at running in general.  I never had plantar fasciitis until I started running.  I never had hip pain before I started running. Now that I have finally gotten those under control and have very little pain, my knee is starting to hurt.  I mean, really, you’ve got to be kidding me.  I though eventually this was supposed to get easier.  I thought eventually it wasn’t going to hurt.  I was about to give up.  And I mean really give up.  Top that off with the fact that the damn scale did not move AGAIN and I was in a pretty aggravated and annoyed mood.

I woke up this morning with a slight “bad mood” hangover.  It was lingering there and I was trying to not let it affect me.  The kids actually let me sleep until 6:15 (shocking!) and then I hit the gym.  I wasn’t feeling much better as I headed up to Monkton to cheer on a friend who was running the NCR Trail Marathon.  I was still feeling sorry for myself when the first runner began to cross where I was at mile marker 5.  And you know what?  He was blind!  He was running with someone else who, I’m guessing, was guiding him when he needed it, but was also holding a cane, just in case.  I was floored and amazed.  It took all my willpower not to run him down and shake his hand.

It wasn’t so much that I was impressed that he was running and he was blind.  I mean, yes, I was, but your eyes really have nothing to do with the muscles that run your body so they don’t directly affect your ability to run.  What I was impressed with was that he was running, when so many people probably told him it was something he couldn’t or shouldn’t do.  He didn’t care what others had to say.  He was going to do what he wanted to anyway, people be damned.

I think that is really one of the key reasons I haven’t really “accomplished” much as a runner.  I still have this deep rooted fear that people are judging me and thinking things like: “how are you a runner?” or “you’re not really a runner unless you can run ____ distance in _____ amount of time” or better yet “You still have to walk some of your 5K?  How does that make you a runner?”  I get turned off and scared thinking that people are always watching me when in reality they really don’t give a crap.

The fear of judgment  leads to the other reason I’m not really getting anywhere as a runner.  I have no consistency in my runs.  I do it one day, and then skip a bunch, or do it three days in a row and take the next week off.  Some days it’s one mile, some days it’s three.  I’m letting my mood affect how and when I run and if I really want to be a “runner” I’m going to have to power through the too tired and too annoyed days as well.  That’s why I’m doing this “Running Streak” from Runner’s World.  It will make me run every day.  Sometimes it will only be a mile, some days it will be more.  But the bottom line is, I have to do it no matter what.

I need to get over the labels.  I need to get over the need for others approval of my running, or how I look when running, or how far or fast I run.  Why do I feel like I have to be good? I don’t.  Odds are I’m never going to be a great runner.  Odds are I’m never going to complete a marathon.  I’m slow, I have bad feet (flat feet, and bunions, and plantar fasciitis, oh my!).  I’m still pretty heavy (which doesn’t help the other two.)  But I like it, it makes me feel good afterwards, and that’s all that matter; how I feel about myself and about my running.

So, as much as I didn’t really want to, as much as my knee hurt, I laced up the running shoes, threw on the head phones and ran out the door at 6:30 pm tonight.  It was cold and my mile was super slow.  But I did it and I’m glad I did.  I won’t ever regret making the run, though I know I will regret missing one.

I sang quietly to myself as I ran through the pain.  If you think about it, that’s how this all began, running through the pain of not liking myself very much.  Running through the pain of bad decisions.  Running through the pain of needing more out of my life.  Running through the pain of needing to feel something, anything.

That’s how this all began but that’s not how it will end.

 

Mind Over Matter

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“We are shaped by our thoughts; we become what we think.  When the mind is pure, joy follows like a shadow that never leaves.” ~Buddha
I’m constantly psyching myself out and I don’t know why.  I sure a lot of it has to do with not having high expectations.  If I don’t think I can accomplish something and I DON’T accomplish it, I’m no worse off than I was before.  On the other hand, if I was sure I could do it, and it turns out I can’t, I’m in for a world of disappointment.
I did and I didn’t want to go running today.  It was freezing.  As in, literally freezing.  I haven’t run in the cold yet and all I wanted to do was sit in my house, snuggled up on my couch with the little ones watching a movie.  Plus, according to my couch to 5K app, I am officially done with interval running as of today.  No more breaks, no more walking.  I know the other reason I didn’t want to run was because I assumed that I would not make it the whole 22 minutes.  Sure, I had done 20 minutes once before, but that could have been a fluke.  It was nicer weather, I ran on flat ground (no hills), etc.  The list goes on and on.  I just knew that I didn’t want to fail at this.
But I did want to run too.  I love the feeling of accomplishment I get after I run and actually complete something.  I love being able to really see how far I’d come beyond pants sizes and numbers on a scale.  I love thinking back to when I first started couch to 5K months ago and quit so many times.  Back to when I couldn’t even imagine running for 5 minutes at a time.  Back to when thinking I could run a mile without stopping was a joke.
So, I made myself go out anyway.  And you know what?  I did it.  I ran my 22 minutes.  Sure, I was cold and uncomfortable.  Sure I was painfully slow, but who the hell cares.  I did it.  And I know that I could do it again.
Sometimes, you just have to tell your self to shut up.  Even if you are continually telling yourself you can’t do something, go out and do it anyway.

Miles accomplished in the 100 Mile Challenge: 71.25

Miles to go in the 100 Mile Challenge: 28.75

Weeks Left: 5

My Latent Love (an old post about Oliver)

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Here is a post a wrote about Ollie in January 2012 on an older blog.  I loved it so much I felt like I needed to share it again…

My little O is about to turn one in just twelve short days.  I have really been reflecting on this lately because, as I look back, I can’t believe how far we’ve come and what we’ve overcome together.

M has always been considered and probably always will be considered my little miracle baby.  Born after 2 losses, arriving almost six weeks early, it was hard not to love him at first sight.  This was something I had worked so hard to obtain, not just for for nine months, but for the three years before he was born as well.  He looked exactly like me and we were inseparable since our first day together.   And, in all honesty, we still are.  We are two peas in a pod, cut from the same cloth.  Our personalities are so in sync that at times it is hard to figure out where I end and he begins.  There is, of course, a bond between father and son, but not quite like the one we share.

In opposition, being pregnant with O felt like a chore.  I know it had  a lot to do with having a toddler already, having to keep it a secret because we lived with my in laws at the time, and spending all my time worrying about where we were going to live, how we were going to pay for things, etc, but still I wanted it to be over.  I was ready for him to be born and ready to get the “parenting two under two” show going.

When he was born, he was absolutely perfect in every way a baby could be, but I was still worried.  Not about him because he was everyone’s favorite, but about M and how we would take it.  I know I should have been more worried about O, trying to spend more time with him, but I felt like, for some reason, he didn’t need me as much.  He had daddy, and the grandparents, everyone fawning all over him and all I could think about was how to make sure M was included in all of the newness and excitement.

I know moms that will sugar coat things and say that bringing a new baby into the fold was easy and natural, but I’m not going to lie.  From the minute we walked in that door and we were all left alone it was hard.  Taking care of two in a tiny house was insane.  Having no income at all while on maternity leave was a nightmare.  O was sick a lot and in turn we were all sick.  My sleep suffered.  My marriage suffered, everything seemed to be changing and I really wasn’t ready for it to.

My siblings and I are completely different, so I don’t know why I thought that O would be easy just like his brother.  There were/are so many differences, even from the beginning.  O wanted a lot of attention.  He loved to be held and be around people, especially his brother.  He was noisy and cried a lot and ate a lot, and was a terrible sleeper (still is!)

But with all of that came his smile, his huge blue eyes, and his ability to find joy and laugh at everything.  My day doesn’t feel complete if O isn’t up to say goodbye to me in the morning.  No matter what kind of day I am having, seeing him run to greet me when I come home with that huge smile on his face is all I need to change my day around completely.  He is definitely daddy’s boy, through and through, but I know we have something too, a connection that only a mom and son could have.  It may have taken a little while, but now I realize that I would not be able to function if he were not here with us.  He is the puzzle piece in the middle…the one without which you have no idea what the picture actually is, the one that keeps everyone together.

At first I felt guilty about these feelings I had, like I wasn’t a good enough mother for some reason because my heart did not burst full of love the minute I conceived, but I know that I shouldn’t.  My love for O grew a little bit each day and I know that even now it is not done growing.  Today I can say I love him to the moon and back, but that’s just because we don’t know what they will discover past the moon in the future.

What the F**k?

/ Cassie / 3 Comments
“You’ve done it before and you can do it now.  See the positive possibilities.  Redirect the substantial energy of your frustration and turn it into positive, effective, and unstoppable determination.” ~Ralph Marston

Most of the time I try to stay positive.  Most of the time I try to simply find some sort of bright side or silver lining.  And usually I can.

I’ve worked out every day this week.  Gym 6 times, running 3 times.  Eaten pretty healthy (or at least I thought so, definitely healthier than I had been).  I could feel the changes (my muscles weren’t as tight, my knees didn’t hurt quite as much).  I knew I was doing it right.

But today, seriously, what the fuck?  I mean, really?!?!  I decided I should go ahead and get on the scale since it had been a week.  I wasn’t expecting much change.  Just a little, maybe, to let me know I was moving in the right direction.  I know I am moving in the right direction.  But do you know what ISN’T moving in the right direction?  The damn scale.  Because somehow, after all my hard work, I am UP two pounds.  So, I ask you again, WHAT THE FUCK?

I try not to let the numbers on the scale define me.  I try to tell myself to look at the overall picture.  Clothes are getting loser, energy level is going up, runs have become a lot easier (still hard, but easier than when I first started).  I *know* I am moving forward.  I know I am moving in a positive direction.  I know the numbers on the scale don’t paint the whole picture.  But come on.  Help me out a little.  Give me something tangible, something in “writing” to show me I am doing a good job.

I’m not going to let this moment define my day like I would have a long time ago.  I’m not going to give up and think “why bother now” like I would have a long time ago.  And that’s progress.  I know that’s progress.

But really, come on!

End rant.

Celebration Tuesday

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“Once you replace negative thoughts with positive ones, you’ll start having positive results. ~Willie Nelson

Today started well, but towards the end of the day, I started to get a little down.  I don’t know if it was the wine with dinner or the fact that I’m pretty tired from gyming every morning and getting myself back on track.  Really it could be a number of things…it happens.  So I decided, maybe I should focus on some good things that have happened lately.

1. I put on capri workout pants today.  They used to be tight around my calves.  Today I realized they are super baggy.  This made me happy.

2. I have worked out 4 days in a row.  It’s been a while since I could say that.  I’m not sure if I’ll run or gym tomorrow morning, but I know that I’ll do one of them.

3. My calf muscles are killing me after my run…but that means I have calf muscles and I am using them to push myself farther and make myself better.

4. I’m in the low 30’s of how many more miles I need to go in my 100 mile challenge.  I really can’t believe that I am actually going to accomplish this.

5. I still have no idea what I am doing…with my running, my job, my life…but I am OK with that.  I’ll get it eventually.

I think that’s it.  A short post, but it’s nice to see that I’m getting somewhere.

Progress is progress, no matter how small.

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“We all have dreams, in order to make dreams come into reality, it takes an awful lot of determination, dedication, self-discipline and effort.”~Jesse Owens

Today was Color Run day.  My original goal was to be able to run the whole thing.  Guess what?  I didn’t.  Not even close.  I did manage to run more than half of it, but once I started, I knew I wasn’t going to be able to do the whole thing.  Months ago, this would have made me feel like a failure and give up before I even started.  But not today.

This is the first *real* 5K where I felt like I actually showed some progress. It was hard.  And my feet and legs hurt.  But it didn’t feel like it took forever.  It felt so much easier (not easy, just easier) than the other ones I have done.  And I didn’t immediately want to die afterwards.  Sit down, yes.  Die, no.  And my, oh, my, the amount of pride I felt in myself when I finished it was absolutely priceless.  Just when I think I can’t accomplish something, I surprise myself.

Just to show you what I mean by progress, here are my 5K times from the last four 5Ks including the one from today.

September 5K: 59 Minutes
October 5K: 66 Minutes (don’t even ask)
November 5K (1): 51 Minutes (around my block for World Run Day, but still a *paid for* 5K)
November 5K (2): 41 Minutes

In a month, I have improved 25 minutes!  I mean, that is amazing for me.  Today, even with run/walking, I averaged a 13:33 minute mile.  I know to some, that’s not much, but to me, that is everything.  I am constantly feeling like I am getting no where with this running thing.  I don’t feel faster when I run at home, my weight is pretty stagnant, every muscle in my body still hurts every time I run.  But today, the numbers didn’t lie.  And while I may not be a *real runner*, while the idea of running anything other than a 5K makes me shudder in fear (10K gasp!, half marathon eek!), I am getting better.  I am moving forward.  I am doing this.

And the best part is I am doing it myself.  I do have an amazing support system, don’t get me wrong.  I have friends who cheer me on at the finish line (Hi Doe!), friends who sign up for every race with me so I don’t have to do it alone (Hi Sara!), friends who run marathons, but still know how much it takes for me to complete a 5K and cheer for me harder than anyone else (Hi Jean!) and a husband who kicks me out of bed when the alarm goes off because he knows I’ll be crabbier if I don’t get up to go run (Hi Mike!). But for the most part, it’s just me, out there at 5 am running alone, lost with my music, with no one to push me to make me keep going.  And I do keep going.  Because this is something I need.  This is something that is saving me.  With every step I take forward I gain a renewed confidence in my self, a new reason to keep living.  And even when I have to take some time off, there is no one step forward, two steps back, because no matter what, I will continue to go forward.

I realize when I first started running I was running away from something.  Running away from bad decisions that I had recently made.  Running away from a life I didn’t want anymore.  Running away from myself.

Today was a turning point.  I no longer feel like I am running away from something.  I know that I am running toward something, and I’m not slowing down or giving up any time soon.

Miles accomplished in the 100 Mile Challenge: 66.75

Miles to go in the 100 Mile Challenge: 33.25

Weeks Left: 6

What the hell am I doing?

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“Bottom line is, even if you see ’em coming, you’re not ready for the big moments. No one asks for their life to change, not really. But it does. So what are we, helpless? Puppets? No. The big moments are gonna come. You can’t help that. It’s what you do afterwards that counts. That’s when you find out who you are.” ~Joss Whedon

I had my formal observation at school today.  Normally I am nervous and fret about it for days on end.  I can’t sleep the night before, I stay late in my classroom every night cleaning and getting ready, I spend hours writing my lesson plan.  Not this time.  I spent maybe 20 minutes on my lesson plan, stayed maybe an hour later the night before cleaning up and slept like drunk (though I was not) last night.

You might think it was because in the four years I have been working in public schools I have learned a lot, gained more confidence, and understand the value of growing as a teacher.  You might think it is because I have a complete understanding of my students and their needs, and what I, as their teacher, need to do to meet those needs.  You might even think that I’m simply amazing at my job so there was never a need to worry in the first place.

None of this is true.  Not one bit of it.

The fact of the matter is I simply don’t care.

Now, don’t get me wrong.  I am pretty good at my job.  My children learn.  Everyone is alive at the end of the day.  I still continue to go above and beyond what is expected of me.  But really, I think it’s because those things are ingrained in me.  I have a strong work ethic.  I will never just quit and walk away when other people are counting on me, nor will I simply not do what I am getting paid to do.  But I just don’t care anymore.  I don’t really like teaching.

I was at an Arts Everyday meeting with a friend the other day (on my own time, not getting paid) and we were listening to this person behind us who was obviously new, or at least relatively new, to teaching.  He was going on and on about all these programs he wanted to start, how he’s in it for the kids, basically that this job and the children in his class are his reason for getting up every morning; his reason for living.  All I could think was that this is a clear sign that I shouldn’t be doing this job anymore.  None of these things applied to me.  Yes, I used to be that idealistic and love my job and love my kids.  Pretty much as recently as last year I knew (thought) that this is what I was meant to be doing and I couldn’t see myself doing anything else ever.

But things have changed.  Something in me has changed.

I don’t like waking up every morning spending my day with this eager little people.  In fact, most days I loathe it.  I hate the fact that I spend more time with (and on) these children than I do my own.  I hate the fact that my children get the brunt of my bad days because I’ve listened to whining and tattling all day so when I get home I literally explode when my own children do it.  I’m upset over the fact that I used to have so much idealism, used to believe I could “be the change you wish to see in the world” and now I’m just happy if I make it through the day without having to call a parent and pray none of them text me for some insane reason.

But mostly, I simply hate the fact that I don’t care.  I wish I liked my job.  But not liking it has lead to not caring and really, it’s not fair.  It’s not fair to me because I am miserable.  It’s not fair to the people around me who I make miserable because they have to deal with me being miserable.  It’s not fair to the kids who really, for the most part, didn’t do anything wrong.  It’s not fair to the teachers who don’t have a job, because I’m selfishly taking this one and I don’t even want it.

So, really, what does all this mean?  I means I need to look for a new job.  I mean really and truly look for a new job.  No more thinking I’m going to and then getting lazy because I make pretty good money and have great benefits.  Frankly, it’s not worth it anymore.  I have to stop sacrificing my happiness.  Ever since the end of last year, ever since the summer, I feel like I have been simply going through the motions, not being completely here or there.  It’s like I’ve been holding on to something I shouldn’t have, been waiting for someone or something else to come along and make this decision or change for me. And I have to stop.  I have to let go.  I have to move on from whatever it is.

I have to grow up, put on my big girl panties, and make some real choices.

But, what if I fail?

/ Cassie / 2 Comments

“I honestly think it is better to be a failure at something you love than to be a success at something you hate.” ~George Burns

So, yesterday my Couch 2 5K program changed from running 5 minutes to running 8 minutes.  When I saw that I got scared.  I felt like there was no way in the world I was going to be able to run for 8 minutes…twice!  But, in the end I did it.  I couldn’t believe it.  I am very rarely impressed with myself, but I was pretty impressed when I could.  It was even better when I realized that the longer I ran, the easier it got, even the up hill parts.  I started to think that maybe I would be able to go for more that 8 minutes.  Hey!  Maybe I could even go for 10 minutes!  I was on top of the world!  I’ve got this!

For the first time ever, I actually felt like maybe I was really doing this; really becoming a runner.  For the first time ever I didn’t feel like I wanted to die afterwards.  For the first time ever I felt like maybe this was really the sport for me.  Maybe this was my saving grace.

Then I opened my Couch 2 5K app to see what my run is supposed to be like tomorrow.  Run 20 minutes.  Run 20 minutes?  Run 20 freaking minutes! Are you kidding me? Seriously?  How the hell do you go from “run 8 minutes” to “run 20 minutes”?!?!?!  Didn’t we leave out a few steps in this process?  How about run 10 minutes?  How about run 15 minutes?  How am I supposed to do this?

What I realized, though, is that I am not actually afraid of doing the activity.  I’m afraid of how I’ll feel when if I fail.  Will this make me lose focus?  Will this make me depressed?  Will this make me give up?

I don’t want these things to happen, and I know, deep down, that I will keep going, but I don’t want to get derailed again.  I’m so tired of feeling like I can’t accomplish things in my life.  I am so tired of getting knocked off my path only to have to restart and repeat things over and over again.

I get it.  It’s mind over matter and I have to stop psyching myself out.  I have to think positively.

Maybe, just maybe, I’ll be able to run the whole 20 minutes.

Maybe I’ll make it after all.

Maybe.