I titled this blog Settling for More for a reason. There have been a lot of time in my life when I didn’t do something I should have done. Either I failed to take advantage of an opportunity that was placed before me, or I allowed something to happen that I shouldn’t have allowed. I’m not beating myself up for any of that, I did the best I could at the time and that’s what counts. Still, I sometimes think that I would have been further toward achieving my goals if I’d taken a few more chances and stood firm for what I really wanted out of life.

This is all a round about way of saying that my plan when I started this blog was that I would expand my life in all directions. I’d start having adventures and trying new things and then I would come back and write about those new experiences here. It would be a journey of discovery.

The only problem is that I can’t seem to get started on the journey.

To be fair to myself, I have made some changes. I’m buying a condo, which is exhilarating and scares the crap out of me all at the same time. I’ve gotten more social and reconnected with some family and friends. I’ve certainly made more connections online. I’ve started eating better and working out more and I’ve lost some weight. Still, I feel like I should be doing more. The problem is that I can only handle so many changes at once. Right now, I feel like my life has been in sort of an upheaval since the afib was diagnosed in March. Everything since then has been about adjusting and managing and figuring out what happens next.

I guess, sometimes, I have to give myself a break. Life is a process and it may not always proceed as smoothly as we would like. When I look at things objectively, I see that I have made strides. Maybe I haven’t had big, extravagant adventures, but I have stepped outside my comfort zone. True, the steps may have been baby steps, but they were steps all the same. Tonight, I’m choosing to be proud of that.

Sometimes I think I should have a category for this blog called “Complaints”. Not that I want to spend a lot of time complaining, but sometimes I just feel that life is messing with me. When I can look at things rationally, I know that I’m in a pretty good place. Sometimes, however, the rational part of my brain goes to sleep or takes a coffee break and all I’m left with is the part of my brain that wants to sit on the floor and cry like a tired child. That part of my brain was apparently in charge today.

I’ve been jumpy and irritable all day. I must have taken my pulse (always perfectly normal) 500 times. I’m worried about moving. I’m worried about not being able to move. I’m worried about my health. I’m bummed out about a job I interviewed for that turned out not to be the right job for me. I feel like I’m looking for things about which to be concerned. I know I’m probably borrowing trouble.

Most days I keep it on a pretty even keel. Some days, however, I really feel my lack of a confidante and my need for a supportive group of friends who are actually in the same place as I am . I have good online friends, but I don’t have anyone who lives where I live, who I could call and say “Today sucked. Want to go for a walk or to get some ice cream?” I really think having that outlet would help. I’m just not sure, as I’ve said before, how to go about finding it.

In any case, today is almost over. I’m tired, so I should sleep well, even though it is quite humid here, another thing that hasn’t helped my mood. Hopefully tomorrow I’ll wake up feeling better and brighter and knowing that everything else will work out. In the meantime, if you have any positive vibes to spare, please send them my way.

Tonight, I think I could use them.

I’ve always considered myself a pretty tough cookie. I grew up in a family with a father who drank and a mom who didn’t cope all that well. I spent a lot of time shoring up my Mom and neither parent was very helpful when I had emotional problems. I learned pretty early that my role was to be the supporter, not the supported. Eventually I was trained to take care of everyone else but myself.

Over the years I’ve made a virtue out of self reliance and soldiering through. I don’t whine and I don’t cry and I get on with things. All three times I was hospitalized this year I drove myself to the hospital. When I’ve had other crises in my life, I’ve dealt with them. If I do cry or get scared I do it in privacy. To me, that seems like the right thing to do. Besides, I’m reluctant to ask anyone else for help in case that help isn’t there.

What worries me is that, lately, I’ve noticed myself being rather harsh when other people express their emotions in public. I used to be a nurturing sort of person, and my first instinct was to reach out and comfort people and make things better. Now my first instinct seems to be to think that the person in question should just suck it up and move on. I certainly don’t feel inclined to offer help or sympathy.

I don’t want to be someone who isn’t helpful and caring, that’s not who I am. By the same token I’m also wary of offering help because I know how easy it is to be sucked dry by an emotional vampire. Healthy relationships where both partners take turns being the supportive one are one thing. Relationships where I’m constantly providing reassurance and support are something else all together.

I guess the solution is to try to connect with healthy people and to draw some boundaries. If I know how much support I’m willing to give and how much energy I’m willing to expend, I can take better care of myself. I also have to learn to ask for support. If I don’t ask, how will those around me know when I’m in need? Even though it makes me a bit uncomfortable, I have to learn to rely a bit on other people. That’s the only way to have healthy relationships.

Stupid Condo Lady, as I have lovingly come to call her, is really starting to piss me off. Ever since she got involved in this condo deal it has become complicated. She also seems incapable of answering any question with less than a two page answer, half of which is gibberish that means nothing. I was on the phone with her the other day and I actually spaced out in the middle of the conversation. I really have no recollection of what she said, and that sort of thing does not happen to me.

My wise friend, Steve, says I should relax and let the universe work its magic and that things will all come out as they are meant to be. I think the different between he and I is that he has a belief in the magic of the universe and I’m still skeptical. I guess, when it comes to things working out for the best I’m still from the show me state. Let me see it happen a few times and then maybe I’ll come to believe.

I also know that, subconsciously, I ‘ve been waiting for the other shoe to drop and things to fail to work out. I tend to do that with most big things that I care about, so it is entirely possible that I’m borrowing trouble where none exists and pulling out before there’s actually any reason to do so. I think part of my problem is that I really like this place and I could imagine myself living there. The more I want it, the more part of me expects that I won’t get it. Which, I suppose, especially if you believe in the magic of the universe and the idea that we create our own destiny, means that if I believe it won’t work out, it won’t.

For now I’m putting a moratorium on all worrying about the issue. I forwarded the latest communication from stupid condo lady to my mortgage person and my Realtor. Hopefully they’ll tell me what I need to worry about and when I need to worry. Until then, I’ll just assume all is well and move forward with my plans.

If, however, the universe feels inclined to do any magic, now would be a real good time.

There are some members of my family with whom I am not close. My sister and I? Not close. My biological father and I? Not close. There are various reasons for this lack of closeness. Some of it is hurt feelings. Some of it is stubbornness. Some of it is simply a dislike of life choices the other person has made. Sometimes it is just the fact that you get tired of trying.

Sometimes I wonder if I give up on relationships too easily. Finding boundaries is often hard for me since I didn’t set any at all for so long. I suppose sometimes I err on the side of drawing my boundaries too broadly or enforcing them to rigidly. On the other hand, I’ve worked hard to become the person I am and that should be respected. On the other hand, maybe I’m insisting so hard on my feelings and boundaries being respected that I’m not respecting those of others.

So, I wonder about my relationships with family members a lot. Then, every once in a while, something happens that tells me maybe I haven’t totally messed everything up. Take this evening for instance. I had dinner with an aunt and uncle of mine whom I really enjoy. They are the people I first lived with when I moved to this area. They took me in at a time when I was very down and out and I haven’t always repaid them for that kindness as well as I should have done. I’ve said it before and I’ll most likely say it again, I’ve made mistakes in my life.

Still, regardless of the mistakes I’ve made, they were able to forgive them and we now get together every few months or so and have dinner. We talk over family gossip and laugh about what the various family members are doing and have a very nice dinner. There’s no stress, no pressure, no hurt feelings and no drama. It’s just a nice time.

I sometimes think that part of my longing for connection is caused by the fact that I don’t really feel connected to my own family. I don’t spend a lot of time with people with whom I have a long history. My aunt and uncle have known me since birth. They play a huge part in the childhood memories I do have. When I’m with them I do feel connected and part of something larger. I’m discovering I like that feeling.

I guess, for me, family is probably always going to be comprised of those who love me, regardless of whether they’re related to me by blood or not. I kind of like that idea because it means I can find members of my family almost anywhere. That is, somehow, a comforting thought.

I’ve noticed something about myself lately that I don’t like very much. Recently when something good has happened to someone I know my first thought, right before I congratulate and celebrate my friend or acquaintance’s good fortune, is a brief flash of “why couldn’t it have been me”. It may only last a second, but it is there, and I don’t like it.

I do believe that there is enough good to go around in the world. Even though it doesn’t always feel that way to me, I know that I’ve had my share of good and fortune in my life. I also firmly believe that there is more to come. Still, even though I genuinely want to celebrate the good fortune of others, I sometimes find myself feeling a bit resentful. When is my good fortune going to come, I wonder. When is it going to be my turn?

I dislike this part of myself, this cramped old miser who sits and spews bile on everyone else’s happiness and luck. Even though she only surfaces for a second and I am able to genuinely happy over someone else’s good fortune, I still feel as though the miser me spoils the whole thing. I want to be happy with my whole heart and not rent any part of it out to jealousy and envy. Sadly, I haven’t quite figured out how to do that yet.

I do know that part of the issue right now is the fact that I feel like I’ve put in a lot of time and I’m not getting anywhere. I had certain goals in mind and I think I’ve done all the things I need to do to be on the right path to achieving those goals, but nothing seems to be happening. When someone else achieves something I’ve been wanting, there’s that little twinge of “hey, wait a minute, that should have been me”. Even though I try to shut it out, that little voice is there, poisoning my thoughts with envy.

They say that the first step toward fixing a problem is acknowledging that there is a problem. This is a thought process I don’t like and one I don’t have to maintain. I refuse to be one of those people who begrudges other people happiness and good fortune.

I’ve made up my mind that, from now one, I won’t be.

I called this blog Settling for More for a reason. For a lot of my life I’ve felt like I’ve settled for less. I always had big dreams and hopes, but I also always had people telling me that those dreams and hopes most likely wouldn’t come true. The people who told me this weren’t being cruel or trying to crush me, they just knew me to be someone who dreamed large and they didn’t want me to get hurt when things didn’t happen as I imagined they would. I’m not sure I always appreciated that, but I do understand it.

I still dream big. I’m guessing that will never change. What has changed is the things about which I dream. I still want to accomplish a lot, but I’m no longer looking to be the most famous, the most beloved or to conquer the world. Mostly I just want to feel as though I’m doing good work, feel as though I’m loved, and feel as though I’ve made a difference. If those feelings came with a nice paycheck and a luxury lifestyle that would be nice, but it’s not necessary.

As I’ve gotten older I’ve learned that the meaning of more is different for every person. My more won’t necessarily look like yours and vice versa. I believe that part of our job as people is to help those around us achieve their more, which means we can’t judge what someone else’s more looks like. One person may want to be a baseball player, another may hope to be instrumental in achieving world peace, and a third may aspire to open a vegan restaurant. None of those goals may figure into my more, but that doesn’t make them any less valid.

Part of the fun of this journey has been figuring out what my more is and what it is not. The things I thought I would want when I was 16 are not the things I want at age 39. Some of my ideas of more, like the idea of being a writer, have stayed pretty consistent. Others, like the thought that I would live in a penthouse in New York, have gone by the wayside. One of the biggest lessons I’ve learned is that the meaning of more can change, and that the only way to achieve your more, and to help others achieve theirs is to be open to the idea that more can mean a lot of different things.

Personally, I find that exciting. I also think a world of people who are all working to achieve their own personal versions of more would be a very exciting and interesting place.

I don’t talk much about my lost year. Truth is, I try not to think about my lost year. That year was such a sink of hopelessness and darkness and I really don’t remember many of the events of that year. Mostly what I remember is how hard everything seemed and how little I cared about whether tomorrow came. I couldn’t see how things would ever get better. I pretty much given up caring if they did.

Thankfully I haven’t had any times that dark since then. I have my moments, even my days and weeks where I feel a little down, or a little dark around the edges, but I bounce back. I know not to let myself get too stressed, or to allow myself to feel too trapped. I know that a down day will pass. I know that feeling a little blue is only temporary. I know all this, and yet feeling a little depressed still scares the living crap out of me. I’m don’t want to sink again. I’m not sure I’d make it back to the top this time.

The last few days I have been a little blue. It’s a combination of things. It has been very hot and humid here which is not my favorite weather combination. There may be a delay in moving into my new condo. I’ve taken on a couple of new projects and I don’t feel that I’m getting as much done as I want to get done. . My job is in a slow period and I don’t feel like I’m accomplishing much. I’m making strides to be more social, but I haven’t miraculously developed a whole pack of best friends forever. I feel like my life lately has been a lot of slog and not much sunshine.

I know this feeling will pass. I’m aware of how much good there is in my life and how much opportunity still lies before me. I also know that I’m taking steps to correct the things in my life with which I am dissatisfied. The sunshine will, perhaps unfortunately for the heat index, come out tomorrow and life will be good. I know this and, more importantly, I believe this.

Still, just for tonight, my world feels a little dark around the edges.

Tomorrow is, however, another day.

One of the women I co-write the blog A Frugal Housewife with asked an interesting question this morning on the other blog she writes. She asked about blog boundaries and what other bloggers consider off limits and what they will discuss on their blogs.

When I first started writing this blog and my other blog, When I’m Thin, I agonized over that question quite a bit. I knew that I wanted to tell the truth. I also knew that some of my interpretations of events probably wouldn’t mesh entirely with the interpretations of some of my family and friends. I fully intended to stand behind everything I said and everything I wrote, I just wasn’t sure exactly what I wanted to reveal and what I wanted to keep to myself.

I’ve been writing this blog for a while now and I’ve learned that most of the stuff I want to keep to myself is the stuff of which I’m ashamed. I suppose everyone’s first instinct is to try to portray themselves in the best light possible. I’m no different. Part of me wants to portray myself as a triumphant survivor who overcame sexual abuse, a childhood with an alcoholic parent, and depression and emerged victorious.

The truth is I am that person but I’m also someone who made a lot of mistakes. I hurt a lot of people in the years when I was struggling with my own demons. I can’t change the past and I may not be able to repair some of the relationships I damaged, but I can at least acknowledge what I’ve done, even if I only acknowledge it here.

I guess in the end part of settling for more is acknowledging and accepting who you are, warts and all. I’ve done a lot that I’m proud about, and I’ve done some things that don’t make me so proud. All of it has made me who I am today.

Strangely enough, I don’t think I’d change that, even if I could.

I’ve never been someone who likes making choices. It might be more accurate to say that, up until recently, I wasn’t someone who made choices. I kind of fell into things. I took a job because someone offered it to me. I moved to a town because I didn’t have anywhere else to go. I settled into an apartment because it was cheap and seemed relatively quiet. I took what was presented to me and made the best of it.

Over the past year or so I’ve realized that making choices is part of having the life you want. You have to say yes to this and no to the other. You have to know what you want so you can choose the path that will get you there. Stumbling blindly from pillar to post isn’t going to get you where you want to go. Only calm, deliberate choice will help you achieve your goals.

I guess I’ve always been a person who wants a guarantee that the choices I make will be the right ones. I’ve made a lot of wrong choices in my life. I’ve said yes when I should have said no and no when I should have said yes. I trusted the wrong people. I stayed in situations I knew were never going to get better because choosing to leave seemed like too much work. My life hasn’t been so much a series of plans as it has been a series of accidents. There are days when I’m still not sure how I ended up where I am, or if I’m entirely happy to be here.

A friend of mine, who I am coming to realize is very wise, tells me that you have to trust that the universe is pushing you in the right direction and that you are making the right choices. He tells me that even choices that turn out badly are better than no choices at all. Most of the time I believe him, but part of me doesn’t really trust my ability to make decisions, and is afraid that all my choices will turn out to be the wrong ones.

I guess the thing I need to learn is this: no choice is forever. If I make a bad choice I’ll most likely get a chance to make another choice at some future date. I’m also pretty sure that the more I learn to like myself and the more I learn to trust myself, the more likely I am to make better choices about my life. At least I hope that’s what will happen. Because like it or not, if I want to settle for more I have some choices to make.