It’s funny. Eight months ago, I wrote a sort of short biography on here and I was determined that this year would be mine. Everything would go how I wanted it to, or needed it to. In a way, it has. In a way, it’s hasn’t. If I’m honest with myself, I’ve made some pretty grave mistakes this year, but I hope that I am on my way to rectifying those things. I have never been a fan of dwelling on things I’ve done wrong, but I also believe that examination leads to knowledge. So here goes.

I came back to Houston after a difficult couple of months in Louisiana, where I realized that I wasn’t very small town, and I wasn’t who I wanted to be. When I came home, I gave up. Well, I gave up to the extent that those around me would allow. Eventually, I picked myself back up. Unfortunately it wasn’t before I acted like a ridiculously pompous (excuse my French) ass-hat to several people I used to very close to. Without going into considerable detail, I will say that how I acted during events which took place at the end of March… Well, it wasn’t my finest moment. I burned the bridge with several close friends, and very nearly burned the bridge with several other people. It has taken me a few months, but after considerable thought, I would hope they will read the following apology:

For the past few years, I have been extremely absent. When I was around I always managed to have something happen to alienate myself from you and your family. This past spring seemed to be the pinnacle of my stupid, thoughtless actions. I was not surprised to hear that none of you really wanted to see, or be around, me. I promised I would act differently so often that if I were to say it now, I know it would mean very little to you. For all of this, I am deeply sorry. Your family was(and still is) very important to me, but I did not treat any of you that way.  I will never not regret the way I have acted around all of you. You were as much a part of my family as any blood relatives, and that I have ruined that is not something I could ever be proud of.

To one of you in particular, I am sorry if you ever felt bullied or put down by me and my actions. I have never aimed to hurt you, despite my brutal honesty. I could have, and should have, handled the changes in your life so much better than I did. I pushed you out because I was hurt and I felt as though you had forgotten me. Rather than talking to you, I rejected you and reacted viciously to any conversation where you came up. I am truly sorry for how I have treated you the past few years, but especially this past year and a half. If we can ever be close again, I will do my best not to push you away. You have been such a large part of my life that it is very hard for me to accept that you want nothing to do with me. However, I will respect your decision. Should you ever need or want to talk to me, or see me, feel free to call. I promise I’ll answer.

Finally, to all of you, I feel that I should leave you alone, and let you come to your own conclusion. I can only show that I am different now, because I have never lived up to my word. I can say, for my part, that there have been several positive changes in my life. These things have helped to get me back on track. They have gotten me to a point of confidence with the people around me, school, and my life in general. Again, I can only prove this through actions, and I can only hope that one day you will accept me back into our little family again.

If there is one thing I have learned several times this year, it is this: As an adult, I have to take responsibility. I can no longer rely on the older adults in my life to constantly come to my rescue. I hope that one day I’ll have enough wisdom to shut my mouth and listen more often than I speak thoughtlessly.


On finding your “niche” (or, “when you fit in every group, you don’t fit in any”)

Let me, very briefly, give you a feel for my desk. In the middle, I have my computer. An older Toshiba on its last leg, but it does the job so I’ll be keeping it around. To my right: a glass with pens, paintbrushes, and pencils in it, two camera lenses, an incense burner, lime mints, a few guitar picks, a lamp, a picture of me and the boyfriend, and an Arizona tea. To the left: watercolors, medication, granola, a stapler, tape, bracelets, Vogue magazines, a calculator, two cameras, an empty Monster, incense, chords, old paintings, pictures of my best friends, a journal, and a book on color. Beyond this is a bookshelf filled with everything from entrepreneurship to Harry Potter, from physics to philosophy. Vitamins, one of the Russian nesting dolls, a bobble head Japanese man, sculptures I’ve made, candles, a lint roller.

I think I might have lied when I said brief. As cluttered as that sounds, it actually isn’t too bad. Honestly, this desk is my haven. It has everything I need within a three and a half foot space. Now, you’re probably wondering why I’m telling you this. I’m explaining my desk because it puts a visual to how I feel about my life. It has everything I need for making music, art, math, writing, and inspiration. I even have a blue orchid! If someone came in and looked at my desk, they could probably instantly tell you that I am a creative person. But if they looked around my room, they’d also be able to tell that I enjoy yoga, India, interior decorating, culinary arts, and the occasional video game. There’s not just one type of book, or art, or type of music I’m interested in.

To a point, this might make you think,”Well isn’t that good? Doesn’t that kind of make you well rounded?” Well…yes, and no. Here’s the thing. When you’re someone like me, who likes every kind of music, and every kind of art, and who can assimilate into every group, it’s actually pretty hard to find one group that you really fit in. I’m not a hipster, but I have “hipster” music and some tastes. I’m not country, but I have country tastes. I’m not a gamer, but I like to game. Get my drift? The one group I feel like I fit into is at work, and that’s only because we all talk about work. Even outside of work, it’s all we talk about. I think, if we started looking at what we all like individually, we would find we have a little less in common. I’m not trying to be pessimistic, but it seems to be the truth.

According to my mom, who faced the same problem, being able to fit into every group is an asset I’ll need when I get older. But for right now it’s a hindrance.

I don’t want it to sound like I can’t fit in anywhere though. Occasionally I find other people who I really connect with. For example, tonight I went with my mom to a TEDx meeting and I wound up talking for at least thirty minutes about art and its further applications. Because of a common interest, I’ll be able to take graphic notes for the next TEDx event. Having many interests helps when you come across a group like TED. Because they have such a diverse group of talented people, there is a place for all types of strengths. Some people in the group were good at organization, publicity, or handling the speakers. The main thing is that TED really lives up to “ideas worth sharing.” I felt like my ideas were worth hearing in the group, and I felt like they were appreciated. I don’t always feel like that in other groups. In fact, it’s pretty rare that I feel like my ideas are being heard.

Eventually I hope that my diverse interests and talents will be helpful. For now, in this awkward teenage stage of my life, it is a little hard. As stated in the title, when I fit into every group, I sometimes feel like I don’t really fit into any group. I will say that it is getting easier to see who I will, and will not, be able to freely bounce ideas off of. I know, for example, that when I am around people like those in TEDx I am very happy and I feel like I am just as important and valued as everyone else in the group. I know that I feel awesome when I’m in a group project.

I like my desk, and my room. I like my huge library of music. I like my books that cover many subjects one would never think go together. It is finally starting to bother me less that I don’t mesh with one clique, but that I instead fall into many categories. Feeling good in my own skin? Almost check.

Congratulations, and a look back

Congratulations, class of 2012!

That’s right. All of my friends are graduating, and I congratulate them. For many of them, high school was an amazing experience (with some not so amazing parts). They will, of course, miss their friends and the towns they lived in. They are starting new chapters in their lives, and I wish them the best.

Still, at this crucial point in so many of my peers’ lives I have to look back on my own unconventional schooling and say, simply, that I hated high school. I would never do it again in a million years. I wouldn’t wish high school on an enemy. While I try to be encouraging to young freshmen, I don’t lie to them when they ask if I enjoyed high school. Why? Trust me, there are enough reasons to fill a book. I’ll stick to one blog post.

I began home schooling after 8th grade when I realized that, despite the concentration of 8th grade and freshmen geniuses in the Duke TIP program, they are not found in large numbers at a regular middle-or-high school. This, coupled with the fact that at thirteen I was far less than emotionally okay, only added up to be a rough trip. My first two years of high school were filled with me being stubborn, feeling completely dumb, and isolated. Nothing seemed to work, really. Then, finally, it seemed like I had found what I was looking for. I applied for TALH (Texas Academy for Leadership in the Humanities), and a few months later I was accepted. This was possibly the most exciting event to have happened to me. I would be finishing my junior and senior years of high school with kids who were just as smart as I was. It would be like Duke TIP in full semester form. It was everything I could have asked for…and I blew it. I didn’t go to classes, I stayed out late hanging with friends, I never studied. In February of 2009, I was asked to leave. Needless to say, I was devastated.

I look back at being home in the next few months after that, and all I remember is feeling like I had lost all sense of direction. Why couldn’t I do well at anything in school? Why couldn’t I motivate myself to go to class? To turn in assignments? What was wrong with me? I was angry, and I felt stupid. It was one of the lowest points in my life and it set me into a downward spiral that I couldn’t get out of. It would take a lot of work to get back to being ready for school. The end of summer 2009 was the beginning of that work. I had to admit that I needed help. I was depressed, listless, unmotivated… I couldn’t get myself to do anything even when I wanted to. Something was wrong, and it had to be more than just me being lazy.

I started a special therapy that fall called DBT (Dialectical Behavioral Therapy). I will be the first to say that this therapy helped me to get out of one of the darkest times of my life. I will also say that the first six months of therapy were the hardest ones to get through. I had to change how I looked at the world, school, and most importantly, myself. I had to change my mindset of thinking I was stupid, to being able to get past those blocks I had put up for myself. It was far from easy, and far from fun. I learned a lot. By the time I graduated from the therapy, I had applied to another high school, determined to finish my junior year with some sort of dignity. I wanted another chance to prove to myself that I could finish high school. This was for me, not anyone else.

Fall 2010, I went to LSMSA (Louisiana School for Math, Science, and the Arts). It was even easier to make friends there than at TALH. It seemed like these were really the kids that just didn’t fit in anywhere else. We all understood each others jokes, and we were a support group for each other. It was amazing. The teachers were amazing. The staff, the school, everything seemed like it was a set up for success. The first semester went alright, with a few hiccups, but I wanted to make it through. I barely remember the second semester, aside from finals. All I know is that between the first and second semester, I lost my energy and my will. I stayed in LSMSA until the end of my junior year, but was not asked to come back. While I expected this, it was still hard to accept that I had failed again. So, when I realized one of my good friends was also not going back, we decided it would be a good idea to finish our senior year at her home town high school. At least then, we would be together in not quite fitting in.

It was easier for her to fall back into her old routine than it was for me. I was the new kid, and I was a senior. I felt like it was too late to get heavily involved in anything. This made for a rough start to a year. It was only when I unintentionally insulted someone that I realized it was hardly the place I needed to be. Of course, I apologized for the incident, but I wasn’t about to have another scene like in the fourth grade (where, if you remember from a previous post, I punched someone in the face). I told the counselor I wanted to get tested for my GED, but she was determined that I should get my high school diploma. She worked with me to figure out which classes I needed to graduate, and I started online classes in September 2011. I graduated with a 3.6 GPA on October 26, 2011.

Since then, life has been nothing short of a whirlwind. I moved back to Houston, and I have started going to the local community college. I do not consider my path through high school a complete failure, not do I count it as a success. I wasn’t exactly excited when I graduated. It was just something to be done. I will never be someone who feels like high school contained some of the “best years of my life”. I have decided to take control of my life from high school on, and I will make college some of the “best years”. I will make the years after college some of the “best years”.

To those graduating, I congratulate you. I wish you nothing but success in wherever you are going. I do, however, hope that you will not limit your most amazing times to high school, where people are petty, and where it is so easy to feel like an outcast. You are still growing, still changing, and you still have such a long life ahead of you. Take chances! Take classes your interested in! But never, ever give up. Had I given up, I don’t know where I would be. I look forward to my “best years”, and I hope you do as well.

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Proactivity, Procrastination, and The Art Of Being A Pro At Both.

Well hello there.

I know, it’s been entirely too long since I’ve posted on here. Why? Well, let me tell you. Jobs suck the time out of a person’s day like nothing else. That’s right! The bum got a job. I got hired as a waitress by El Tiempo Cantina. Exciting, right? Well…not really. Running around and taking orders is hardly my idea of fun, but money is money so I’m not complaining. Anyway, on to bigger, better, and slightly more interesting topics.

Am I the only person who has trouble continuously motivating themselves? No? Awesome.

For example, this year I started off saying,”This is my year. It’s my year to get fit, to get going, to be on my way to being a real adult.” I’ve sort of stuck to it. A little. Slightly. I go to class as I should. The only classes I’ve missed were due to being so sick I actually thought I might not make it (of course, I was being completely melodramatic but still). I’m making good grades in them, and that’s never a bad thing. I got that job and that’s fantastic. Finally making my own money to get the things I want, or the things I need. There is a deep satisfaction in not having to ask your parents for money, seriously.

But that whole “getting fit” part? Not so easy.

Look, I was a fencer for several years. I was in awesome shape. Then I got busy with school and other things, and I quit going. So it’s been a few years since I was heavily active. I’m not in awful shape, but I’m hardly where I want to be. You would think that would be enough to get me motivated. “Look Kristin, make a good work out playlist and get to it. Quit playing video games and go outside!” I understand. And I’ve tried. Usually, this is the conversation in my head:

Wow Kristin! Time to work out! You are feeling self motivated today! Woo hoo! Twenty minute run, then a bunch of push ups and ab work outs and jumping jacks! Oh! And clean the kitchen and the bathroom and your bedroom too! Laundry? No problemo! Eating healthy! Play with the dogs! Outside, outside, outside! Best playlist ever! Yay!

Yep. It’s awesome. But here’s what happens the next day (sometimes two days later, if I’m really on a kick):

Wow. Your legs hurt. And your abs. And your shoulders. You should have stretched more. You’re tired. You’ll run in a bit. Okay…maybe a little later. Just one more episode of The X Files. The bathroom is a little messy. You’ll clean it later, of course. Oh, food? Yeah, definitely need to eat. Well you should wait at least an hour before you run. Oh, it’s nine at night and you haven’t worked out yet? Well maybe tomorrow….

Get m drift? It’s hard to motivate my self to keep going! I’m manic about working out, and being really active. It doesn’t matter what music I have, or what really awesome speech I give myself, or what exercises I look up. I just can’t do it. Of course, I’m trying (starting today) to change this. I’m going to try giving myself a reward for working out after a certain period. I’m not sure if it will work or not though. I hope it will. I’m hoping the idea of looking really awesome this summer is a good enough ultimate goal to keep me going.

Any advice on how to self motivate when it comes to exercising?


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My mom is Wonder Woman.

I may be biased (in fact, I assure you I am) but my mom is the best. Let’s put aside the fact that she has dealt with my “shenanigans” my whole life, and get down to everything else that makes her awesome. Most of it is stuff she doesn’t have to do.

My earliest memory of my mom doing something for me is fourth grade. We had just moved to Houston for my dad’s job. So of course, I hadn’t grown up with the kids in my fourth grade class. I was the new, awkward kid. At first, it seemed like I would be okay. It seemed like I had made friends. Unfortunately, fourth grade is when kids start to get mean and I didn’t know this. One day in PE I was throwing a soccer ball back into the net. This would have been fine if I hadn’t hit someone in the face with it. Yes, I did say I was sorry for hitting them with the ball. However, one has a tendency to quit being sorry when one of the girls in that group comes up behind you and pulls on your hair. I don’t mean a gentle tug either. She pulled hard, and I defended myself without really thinking about it: I punched her. Of course I was the one who got in trouble with the PE teacher. We were sent to the counselor’s office, and the woman had us sit while she called my parents. My mom was mostly on the phone because I just wouldn’t apologize for punching someone in defense. Here’s where my mom becomes a superhero. She asked if I was sorry, and of course I wasn’t. She told the counselor that if I wasn’t sorry, I didn’t have to apologize. She wasn’t going to make me lie, and that’s pretty cool.

Toward the middle of the semester, my mom asked me if I still wanted to be in school. This was after they fought with the school to get my testing recognized, and told them every illegal thing they were doing. I didn’t ever want to go back, so I was puled out and we began homeschooling. Now, it definitely wasn’t the easiest transition for either of us. Eventually though, I started feeling out different subjects and figuring out what really interested me. What really interested me was physics. Great, a ten year old who likes advanced physics. My parents are smart, really smart, but I’m not sure either of them was up to the challenge of teaching me theoretical physics. So what did my mom do? She found me a physics mentor. And no, not just some college kid who’s majoring in it. She found a tenured professor from Texas A&M, someone who I still speak to now, almost nine years later. Again, that’s pretty freakin’ cool.

My mom has never told me not to go out and try something (well, as long as it’s legal/not dangerous/you get the point). She has always encouraged me, and always told me that whatever I wanted to be, be the best at it I could. So every type of art I wanted to do, every subject I wanted to learn, any sport I wanted to try, she was there and she had my back. She still does. When I was really interested in philosophy, she told me about a Duke TIP camp where I could spend three weeks learning about the subject. When I was really interested in art, she told me about the Glassell School of Art, which I received a scholarship for.

My mom knows how to give lessons outside the home though, and she’s pretty good at it.

I’ve seen the Very Large Array, the World’s Largest Ball of Twine, Giant People Statues, and Graceland. I’ve been to Europe and Trinidad and the Bahamas. My mom has instilled in us the idea that travel is a good thing, that new experiences are something to be loved. When she wanted to go camping in Austin, I stood outside and realized how small I was compared to the millions of stars above me. Is spending sixteen hours in a car the most fun ever? No, of course not.  But getting to stand in front of the Oscar Meyer Weinermobile is the most fun ever. Is watching your sisters while your mom is at a conference in New Orleans the most amazing experience? No. But meeting Bill Nye the Science Guy is. Oh! Have I mentioned the people I’ve met because of my mom’s tireless effort to give me amazing opportunities? Stephen Hawking, Michio Kaku, Bill Nye, Vin Diesel, Nick Suntzeff, Michael Duff, and Lawrence M. Krauss to name a few. I’ve done things and met people most won’t ever get to do or meet. That’s awesome.

Probably one of the most important things my mom has done for me, though, is helping me make friends. It’s not easy to be a smart kid. I mean a really smart kid. It can be very lonely and very isolating. My mom found other kids who, like me, needed someone who understood them. Someone who found their jokes funny. Several years later, I am still friends with some of those kids, and we still laugh with each other. They are some of the most important people to me and I would never have met them if it weren’t for my mother.

And of course, my mom performs the basic “mom duties”. She makes sure I’m doing my homework, gets me to class, and tells me about how bad energy drinks are. She allows me to make my own mistakes, but she’s always there when I fall down. She gives me advice, and dries my tears when I’ve got a broken heart. She keeps me safe, supports and loves me, and makes sure I know I’ve always got somewhere to go. I’m not going to say my mom is my best friend, because that isn’t her job. She’s my mom, someone I look up to and enjoy as a person. She is a strong force to be reckoned with, and a daughter can only hope to be as good of a mom one day as she is.

My mom is a superhero. My mom is Wonder Woman.

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To create, you must create.

It seems like a simple enough statement, though perhaps a little unhelpful.

I am not a “deep” creative person. The things that I draw and paint are hardly ever a manifestation of some depressing bit of my childhood. Nor are they a reflection on the government, or my feelings on taking out the trash (all of which are negative, I’ll have you know). My writing is usually a little darker, but that helps to get out all those oh-so-cliche angsty teenage feelings. The problem with this, though, is that I often find myself without inspiration. Yes, I could take inspiration from nature, etc. just like every other person. Generally speaking though, the things I make are just doodles turned into something bigger. Thus, I can go for months without making anything worthy of posting on Facebook, and certainly not Deviantart.

Nothing worthy, perhaps, but I am always drawing. If you look at any notebooks from school, or even tests, there are doodles in the margins on every page. If I’m completely honest, there are usually more doodles than notes. I fondly (insert a bit of sarcasm there) remember my high school chemistry teacher reading my notebook and writing in large red letters: NO DOODLES. YOU ARE IN CHEMISTRY, NOT ART CLASS. Funnily enough, he was and is one of my favorite teachers I have ever had. But to get back on topic, I am constantly drawing. Even if I don’t necessarily like what I’ve drawn, it happens constantly. It’s sort of like my interest in photography. Someone once told me,”If you get ten or fifteen good pictures out of 150, you had a good day.” If I get a few good drawings out of a hundred, I’ve had a good month. Sitting here, with a hot cup of coffee, I have decided to change the way I look at my art. In doing so, I’ve come to my next point.

I have recently come to the not so original conclusion that to get better at something, you have to do it. Astonishing, I know. However, I have heard time and time again,”My writing just isn’t good” or “I just can’t paint”. Now, I will preface this by saying some people were truly meant to paint, write, and sing, and some weren’t. Even outside of the art world though, you must do what you love to get better. For example, if I never run I will never be better at it. If I hardly ever run, and I sit around and say,”I just wasn’t meant to run,” of course I won’t get to my 5K. We tend to put blocks up before we ever try things we want to try. “I can’t”, “I’m not meant to”, “But those Cheez Its look so tasty”. Yeah, yeah, we’ve all heard it.

Excuses are something we are very practiced at. In fact, I would say that most people have about 10,000 hours worth of excuses from our whole lives. “10,000 hours? How did you come up with that number?” Well, I didn’t. Author Malcolm Gladwell did in his book Outliers. In this book, Gladwell covers the potential each of us has based on our surrounding and our opportunities, rather than our “intelligence and ambition and personality traits”. In chapter two, The 10,000 Hour Rule, he covers something that most people don’t really think about. First he writes about innate talent:

“…is there such a thing as innate talent? The obvious answer is yes. Not every hockey player born in January ends up playing at the professional level. Only some do – the innately talented ones. Achievement is talent plus preparation. The problem with this view is that the closer psychologists look at the careers of the gifted, the smaller the role innate talent seems to play and the bigger the role preparation seems to play.”

Gladwell then goes on to say that in order to really be proficient at something, innate talent or not, one must practice. How long? 10,000 hours, according to a study done by psychologist K. Anders Ericsson in the early 1990s. The study involved several violinists, each at a different state of proficiency. The first group were those students who had the potential to become “world-class soloists”. The second group were those who were simply “good”. The third group were those who were “unlikely to ever play professionally and who intended to be music teachers in the public school system.” All three groups were asked how long they had played the violin in the course of their career. All of the students in the groups had started at a young age, around five years old. However, as they began to grow, a difference was shown in time taken to practice:

“The students who would end up the best in their class began to practice more than everyone else: six hours a week by age nine, eight hours a week by age twelve, sixteen hours a week by age fourteen, and up and up, until by the age of twenty they were practicing – that is, purposefully and single-mindedly playing their instruments with the intent to get better – well over thirty hours a week. In fact, by the age of twenty, the elite performers had each totaled ten thousand hours of practice. By contrast, the merely good students had totaled eight thousand hours, and the future music teachers has totaled just over four thousand hours.”

Gladwell gives several other examples of those “elite” who totaled ten thousand hours, including the likes of Bill Joy, Bobby Fischer, Bill Gates, and the Beatles. Now, I’m hardly saying that I’m going for elitism. I don’t really want to be an elite runner, artist, or writer. I am okay with falling into the “good” category for any of those. However, Gladwell helps to drive home the point that practice at least gets you much closer to perfect.

So, as I sit here with my now cold coffee, I will continue to doodle. I will continue to write. Why? I want to get closer to perfection. Again, not elite, but good. I will create and create again. We have always been told that practice makes perfect. Malcolm Gladwell simply puts it in book form. Once you get out of those ten thousand hours of excuses, it’s a lot easier to start working on your ten thousand hours of something you really want to do.

Time for more coffee.

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“I Can Lift A Car Up All By Myself”

Well, maybe I can’t do that, but telling yourself “yes, I can” is a pretty powerful motivator.

Recently, I have found myself in a rut. I feel like I am spinning my wheels, just waiting for something to happen to me. I have also recently found that this isn’t the best way to go through life. It is hard to make friends, to make things happen, to feel fulfilled, when you are constantly waiting for people to talk to you, or for that “life-changing moment”. I’m not saying that you should go out and make friends with every person you come across, or go bungee jumping (though that would be pretty cool). What I am saying is that if you aren’t proactive in your life, nothing will really happen. And when nothing really happens, life can get pretty boring.

So let’s start with things I want to change:

  • I want to read more books, fiction, non-fiction, whatever. I want to read and learn and have something to talk about when I’m with people. I find people who don’t read somewhat boring. I wouldn’t want to turn into them.
  • I want to exercise and eat right. Too much salt, sugar, and preservatives haven’t done me any favors. I need to drink more water, and eat healthier, and working out is never a bad thing.
  • I want to join a sport or some other social something that throws me into a situation where I can make friends. I want to have people around me who inspire and cheer me on, and who enjoy the same things I do.
  • I want to feel comfortable in my own skin. Simple enough.

I am constantly finding reasons to avoid doing what I want. “I don’t have time to read.” Yes I do! I have class Monday and Tuesday night. What else have I got to do?! “I can’t exercise because I’m not in shape.” Well if you never start getting in shape, you’ll never be in shape. Same goes for eating right. “I feel really awkward in social situations, and it’s hard for me to make friends.” Putting myself out there, out of my comfort zone will likely help that anxiety. Getting a job, joining a club or sport, or striking up a conversation with the barista at Starbucks will get me there. “I am not happy with where I am in life. I feel restless. Maybe I should move…” Well, problems follow you. I could move to Portland, or Miami, or Baton Rouge. The things that bother me in Houston will bother me there too. All of these self-blockers are of my own making, and today I’ve decided to break them down with three words: Yes. I. Can.

Now, I’ll be the first to admit that this weather is not helping my restlessness. It has rained in Houston for weeks now, and I’m sick of it. I’m sick of the rain and the cold and then the hot. It’s just ridiculous. I feel like I’m stuck inside day after day and it’s driving me nuts! However, one positive thing about the rain is that it gave me time to clean my desk. No more clutter there, and that makes me happy. It makes me feel like I have a space to be productive. And that’s how I’d like to start looking at other things in my life. This might not be how I want it to be, but it has provided me with this opportunity to improve something else I didn’t like.

I have also started making “to-do” lists for the next day before I go to bed. When I wake up, I know exactly what I need to get done that day, which helps to keep me from feeling bored. I guess what I’m getting at is that, if you feel restless and you feel like you’ve got nothing to do, there is always something you can do. There is always something that can be improved in some way. As far as I can tell, once I start improving these little areas in my life, the bigger things will come a little bit easier. Once I start to put myself out there in little situations, maybe the big ones won’t seem so scary.

Self-validation is a great tool. I’m not going to jump into the deep end immediately. I’m going to get in at the three foot mark and show myself that it is okay, that these things don’t have to be so scary. And once I’ve shown myself that I can do these little things, the bigger, scarier things won’t be so daunting.

Yes I can.

Yes you can.

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