I don’t get things right very often.

Need examples?

Here’s one. Here’s another. I’ll leave it up to you to find the rest.

Life has been pretty weird lately in a one-step-forward-two-steps-back kind of way. Last month took every last ounce of me. It was so full of birthdays, weddings, visitors, too many work hours and too many happy hours. Each on it’s own is a beautiful thing. Each one lasting into the next has left me with nothing left.

“Don’t give what you need to keep for yourself.” – Deb Kern

This is a lesson I need to learn again and again and again. Every time I think things are coming back together they seem to fall even farther out of reach. Breakdown before a breakthrough, right?

My breakdown always looks the same. Self-doubt. Chocolate cravings. Puppy adoption websites. Spending hours upon hours trying to find the best flight deal to the closest non-english speaking country with a decent scuba dive. Obsessing over all the things I’ve ever done and ever want to do. Silently suffering through the breakdown, impatiently wishing and hoping for that breakthrough. In the meantime, the days are so long but the weeks go so fast. The days just don’t end.

10:37 a.m.

10:51 a.m.

11:02 a.m.

This goes on all day until I’ll realize on my way home that the next day is Friday again. Huh? Let’s ignore the fact the July is almost over to avoid inducing an anxiety attack. Age 31 is quickly creeping up on me and I’m feeling a little bit blah-blah. I’ve loved 30. Am I ready for it to be over?  I certainly made progress this year but we all know it’s never enough for me. So much has changed in just a year. Thinking about that much changing in the year to come is honestly a little intimidating. And I don’t even work that hard, guys. Imagine if I worked twice as hard? Ten percent more? Even just ONE percent harder? I’m consistently frustrated with the part of me that will work super hard for someone–hell, anyone–else but can’t seem to work as hard for myself. I think most people are like this. Admitting it is the first step.

Even so, I’ve come a long way. The best part of having a blog is knowing exactly where you were a year ago. Coincidentally, the worst part of having a blog is also knowing exactly where you were a year ago. Last summer was a fucking mess.

I had an injured ego, injured shoulder and an injured liver from downing bottles of Pinnacle Whipped vodka or Pinot Grigio every night. I might still be recovering from all three. Maybe I’m not as strong as I thought. Or maybe things always take much longer than I think they will. Maybe it’s a little bit of both. A year seems like such a long time. I don’t want it to seem that way. I really, really don’t. Because a year isn’t a long time. It only becomes a long time when you are impatient and want something right now. A year isn’t a long time at all when you think about how long you’ve wanted and been working towards something. Two years? Ten years? Since you can even remember? And if you really truly want something, you’re willing to wait for it and work for it forever. Get whatever or die trying. Sounds bleak. So does giving up. I’ll go with “die trying” for now.

So I’m sitting here wondering and writing about all the things. What would totally make this year? The tired and weary  part of me wants to convince myself that 30 was made before it even started. It wants me to rest now and coast on this for a while. The nothing-is-ever-good-enough/I’m-too-hard-on-myself part says there is work to do. This part won’t let me sleep at night. It wonders if she can write a book in two months? Can she get coaching clients? Can she rebuild and rebrand her website? Can she get back in shape and heal her body and pay off her debt and also take a trip to a tropical island where she’ll drink coffee in the morning and tequila at night and magically, literally bump into the man of her dreams as she exits a diving boat after a mind-blowing day of scuba-ing warm crystal clear waters with whale sharks?

Totally doable by September 23rd. Right?

The truth is sometimes I feel like I can’t even do those things in this lifetime, let alone before 30 slips away. I’m not giving up, though. Not just for me, either. I can’t give up. People need my book. They need my coaching. They need my self-indulgent thoughts and my website and everything I’ve learned about how to live in a body that doesn’t even feel like it’s yours half the time. My future self needs me to pay off this debt that has been weighing me down for a goddamn decade and my future love is wandering the planet waiting for the magic he’ll feel when he bumps into me.

As for getting things right? I’m starting to reconsider. Maybe right and wrong don’t even exist as long as you’re learning along the way. If that’s the case, I think we’re all doing just fine.