categorically kate

Category: live easy

  • All I could do if I didn’t have student loans

    All I could do if I didn’t have student loans

    It is no secret that I have student loan debt. And while it is the bane of my existence, I don’t have it as bad as most. You see, both my undergraduate work and Adam’s was covered entirely by scholarships. That means that we both walked away with 4-year degrees that didn’t cost us a penny. I wasn’t as lucky with law school.
    In law school, I was careful to only take out the money I needed. I paid for tuition, housing, and other necessities. After the first year, when I was finally allowed by school rules to work again, I began working the maximum 20 hours a week each and every semester to make ends meet. I didn’t want to take out a penny more than I needed. After three years, when interest was compounded and added to my total, I walked away a little over $63,500 in debt. 
    It was crushing. I worked so hard to do everything right and I still owed that much money. I resolved myself to save and put as much towards my debt as I could. I reasoned that it was like owning a luxury car and surely, I could pay that off right?
    Wrong. For the last year, I’ve sent Great Lakes a payment of over $500 each month. That payment became crushing to our monthly budget at one point, so I sought a reduction based off my income. I received it and now pay a little over $400 each month. And despite shelling out nearly $5,500 in the past year, my balance on my law school student loans are…. wait for it, $62,472.29. That’s right! In the past year of on-time payments, I’ve managed to pay off only $1,100 of the principle of this debt. 
    Does anyone else think this is CRAZY!?!! (Spoiler, I’m not alone. The Federal Government stands to make over $113 Billion (yes, Billion with a B) on Graduate students in the next 10 years! )
    How in the world can our generation “stimulate” the economy when our student loans have us by the balls? I thought it would be fun to put together a list of all the things I could do or buy if I didn’t have Uncle Sam demanding repayment at over 6% interest:
    1. Adam could have a new car. You know, instead of driving a car that is almost 15 years old and has no air conditioner. Without my monthly student loan payment, Adam could actually have a basic, 4-door sedan. How great that would be!?
    2. We could have taken a summer vacation. The last vacation we had was our honeymoon thanks, in part, to my crushing student loans. So thanks Feds. I mean, I’d prefer to stimulate the economy by traveling, seeing the country, supporting the tourism industry and all that. But I guess you had other plans for me and my couch all summer. 
    3. We might actually build the pantry we need. While a pantry space was on our “must-have” list before we started the remodel on our new house, it had to be scrapped for budget issues. We swore we’d get back around it to this year, but honestly, we haven’t had the cash flow. 
    4. We wouldn’t have a second-hand Christmas tree. Oh yes, this year we’re borrowing a Christmas tree from my mom second hand. I’ve always had the dream of buying a beautiful, tall artificial tree for our first home and using it forever. But well, that’s not possible thanks to monthly payments on a debt that never goes away. So for the foreseeable future, we will be borrowing one of my mom’s older trees with missing lights and branches. Cheers! 
    5. We could save for retirement more. As it is, Adam and I live pretty frugally. We spend as little as possible (most months) and then stick any excess back into a savings account. We’d like to have at least $10,000 stuck back at all times in case of any major emergencies (we’re not there yet…). However, if we weren’t paying egregious amounts of interest to the Feds each month, we could also throw ourselves into saving for retirement. We could make sure that we both aren’t working well into our seventies…. but no. Apparently, that’s too much to ask for. 
    I don’t normally like blog posts to come across as bitter as this one. But you know, this topic really ticks me off. I know that I’m super lucky to have come out of school to find a job at all, much less one that pays a decent wage and provides good benefits. Still, it is really hard to get past the fact that so much money is being made off an investment I took in myself. To me, education isn’t a privilege. It’s a right. And presumably, my higher education status would mean that I should have a lot to offer our society. But alas, all I’ll be offering for the next 10-20 years is interest earned while I just manage to stay afloat. And friends, that’s a little troubling to me.

    So, is your student debt crushing you?

  • Outgrowing Favorite Bloggers

    Outgrowing Favorite Bloggers

    I feel like blogging is a journey. When we first started this blog, it was all about introducing ourselves to readers and trying to “meet” as many people as possible. I can still remember how giddy I would feel when a blogger I admired answered an email or commented on one of our posts. I remember specifically when a blogger, who I loved, offered us a free spot on her sidebar just because she liked our vibe. I literally squealed with delight. 
    I still love blogging. But now, I love it for different reasons. Back then, blogging was about getting our story out there, making connections, and I guess, “rising in the ranks”. Now, blogging is about documenting our lives, our choices. It’s about advocating for things we love and enjoy. It’s about maintaining those connections we’ve fostered for so long. I won’t lie and say page views and clicks don’t matter to me. They do. But these days, I’m a bit more mellow in my ideas of “blogging success.”
    That said, I think a natural part of that progression has been a break away from blogs I used to read. It’s not that these bloggers have done anything wrong. They haven’t. It’s just that my ideas of what makes a blog great have changed. As a result, I no longer find their content relevant to me, my life, or my choices. Over the last few months, I’ve found myself slowly removing blogs from various subscription lists. I’ll unsubscribe from an Instagram account if I haven’t felt connected to anything posted in the last 2 months. I’ll take a blog off my Bloglovin’ reader if I find that I’m never clicking over to actually read and instead hitting “marked as read” time after time. I’ll unfollow on Twitter if a blogger is pushing products and services that just aren’t relevant to our lifestyle.
    Blogging is very personal. To some, blogging is a way to express “themselves.” I’ve talked to bloggers who I think want to be that next person who is famous for nothing in particular. I’ve talked to bloggers who want to use their blog to bankroll an expensive shopping habit. I’ve talked to others who use their blog as an online diary of sorts. I’ve talked to bloggers who want to become Pinterest famous or who would really just like a lot of free perks. None of those things are wrong. They are just different reasons to blog and I respect that. 
    However, respecting something doesn’t necessarily equate to following it. And while I may unfollow a lot of my old blog favorites as I evolve in my own right, I know that I will always occasionally drop back in just to say hi, to see where life is taking them, and to wish them well. Likewise, I know plenty have likely “outgrown” our blog in the past year or so and I hope they too will occasionally stop back by just to see how life is treating us. 
    I hope I am always growing and thus, I hope my taste in blogs continues to change with time. I hope yours changes too. Growing together is always the best option, but I know it isn’t always possible. But growing apart doesn’t mean that we can’t maintain some connection. So whether you are a loyal reader, an occasional reader, a new reader, or a long-gone reader stopping in to say hi — know that the “florkens” are growing with you, even if it isn’t always in the same direction.

  • Why I’m Already Dreading the Holidays

    Why I’m Already Dreading the Holidays

    I love holiday time. And let’s face it, as soon as Halloween is over, it’s holiday time. Everywhere you turn, it’s all about Thanksgiving and Christmas. You go from thinking about digging out your old hoodies and sweatpants to figuring out when it is socially acceptable to put up your Christmas tree. It’s a fun time right? Wrong.
    I’m not trying to be all Scrooge here, but lately, I’ve come to dread the holidays. It’s not that I don’t enjoy Christmas carols and bottomless mugs of hot tea by a warm fire. I do. I actually love those things. I also love Christmas movies and family time and gift buying. I love all those things. So if I love holiday time so much, why am I a Scrooge?
    Simple. Holidays also suck. 
    First, who in their right mind would put the two biggest holidays of the year Thanksgiving & Christmas back to back? Seriously. Who did that? Tell me. I want to murder them. Everyone has this expectation that you should spend both holidays with your entire family and that expectation just looms over you. So, come November 1st, of course, everyone wants to coordinate schedules and travel plans.
    Second, holidays suck because it is impossible to make everyone happy. What would make me happy is being able to stay home, sleep late, and spend each holiday surrounded by those I love. But you know what will actually happen? Not that.
    Third, holidays suck because we all have this overwhelming need for perfection. If it doesn’t measure up to the holidays of past we have in our heads or the unattainable picture we’re sold via Home & Gardens then it is a complete failure. 
    I’ve just reread up to this point and realize I sound a lot more “Scroogie” then I intended. Maybe it is because last year for Thanksgiving alone, Adam and I spent about 26 hours in the car traveling to see relatives. We then turned around and pretty much repeated the same trip a month later for Christmas By the end of it all, I hated the holidays.
    This year, Adam and I are making a few changes. 
    We’re only visiting each side of the family once. We’ll drive to Springdale to see Adam’s family once. We’ll drive to Texas to see my family once. And we’ll drive to Louisiana to see my Grandmother once.  That isn’t enough time with any of the three but it will just have to do. We also plan to again be home for Christmas Day and open our doors to any family that would like to be there. We plan on skipping large dinners and focus instead on quality time together — and quality time with our families.

    But even with these modifications, holidays are still stressful. We have to board the dogs. We have to drive. We have to somehow politely divulge that we’re forgoing the whole “gift-giving” traditions this year. We have to drive. Did I mention that we have to drive?

    I really wish this post could have a cheerful ending. I wish I could be positive and say something inspirational about how regardless of the stress, it is all worth it in the end. I mean, I do hope those things but I also know that life isn’t always sunshine and rainbows. We could plan schedules down to the minute and things could still go wrong. People could still bicker and fight. Weather could prevent travel. Moods can sour.

    But I guess I will say this — I will do everything in my power to plan for a happy, joyful holidays season. I will remember that I cannot control others and that I cannot make everyone happy. I will seek happiness in each moment spent with family and friends and I will do my best to not carry my worries with me when I travel.

    I will do my best. I will. And honestly, that’s the most that this Scrooge can offer.

  • The Struggle for Originality

    The Struggle for Originality

    Lately I feel like I’ve been going through a bit of a struggle. This struggle is ever present — both on the blog, and outside of it. I feel like I am in a constant battle to be original.
    You see, we are all so well connected these days. We share pinboards. And blogs. And Facebook posts with specials going on at our favorite boutiques. 
    One day, I woke up and realized that everyone was wearing the same thing. 
    Our homes were decorated the same way.
    We used the same lingo and we laughed at the same things.
    We hit the same sales, bought the same products, and read the same magazines.
    Everyone wore the same hipster glasses, threw on the same infinity scarf, and we all toted around the same hot beverages in the same disposable mugs. 
    We idolized the same celebrities and watched the same TV shows and vegged on the same movies.
    Suddenly, everyone wasn’t comprised of “every one” but of just a group of “one” — all the same. No originality. 
    Honestly, that frightens me a bit. You see, I’ve always thought that I found beauty in the unique… the original. When I was younger, I noticed that I had three giant freckles/moles framing my face in an “L” shape. Although I didn’t love my freckles at the time, the discovery felt original and made me smile. I vividly remember staring in the mirror and thinking to myself, “I bet there is no one else in the world with these exact three freckles. I’m one of a kind.”

    Sometimes, I click around between blogs and I get sad because well,…fewer and fewer of us are one of a kind. I feel like so many of us, including me at times, are trying to fit in and so we end up making choices that aren’t wholly our own. We’re back in middle school trying our best to win friends and attention. To do so, we’ll buy anything and be anyone… except ourselves.

    It’s okay to like cliche things and trends so long as you really like them.
    For example, I’m going to rationalize that it’s okay for me to still want gold metallic accents in my home office, because I truly want them. (Though if I’m being honest, the more popular it becomes, I start to regret the gold accents I’ve already purchased.)But do I always draw that line? I don’t think so.

    I’ve found myself jumping on a bandwagon just for the company…for the approval. I’m guilty, and I’m willing to bet that you probably are too. But you know, I want to be original. I have a deep desire to be the person I am instead of sometimes pretending that I’m something different. 

    I’m Kate. And I confess:

    I absolutely HATE chevron y’all and if I see one more chevron maxi dress I might cry. Seriously… tears. Same goes for those same tired striped curtains that everyone is hanging up. I really, really dislike the fact folks can’t use a  reusable mug to save their life all for the sake of an Instagram photo.  I really want you to have more creativity than to post the another picture of a statement necklace, a latte, or your half-empty wine glass (Talking straight to myself here folks!). I’m reminding myself — and everyone else: It’s okay to like something that everyone else thinks is cheesy and it’s equally okay to turn your nose up at something that everyone is drooling over. Not going lie — I hate the bar-cart trend. There I said it. #sorrynotsorry

    __________________________________________

    What I’m trying to say I guess is that we’re all supposed to be individuals and that’s ok. I’m sarcastic and sometimes a little rude. I can drive a hard bargain and I never let someone walk all over me. I will hold a grudge a lot longer than I care to admit, and while I am slow to forgive, I often love much harder once the deed is done. I am crass and sometimes crude, but I am loyal and kind. There is no one else quite like me. For that reason, I refuse to waste my time from here on doing or liking the same things merely because that’s the current trend…even if I have a blog.

    Our blogs can be — and should be — just as original as we are! I’m bucking the system and starting a trend towards originality! Who’s with me!?

  • Late Night Chronicles

    Late Night Chronicles

    Late nights come in a lot of forms. 
    In high school, I’d often stay up late at night dreaming of my future. I’d try to imagine what college I’d go to, what friends I’d make, what career I’d pursue, and of course, which cute boy I’d meet.
    In college, my late weeknights usually consisted of a project that I put off until the last minute. I’d sit at my computer, constantly checking my style manual for citation formats and I’d swear to myself that next time… oh yes… next time…. I’d get it done sooner. On weekends, I was usually up late dancing at some house party. More accurately, I was taking care of a drunk friend at some lame house party or being said drunk friend at some lame house party. 
    In law school, my late nights were usually due to stress. I’d get home late after school, work, and networking functions only to remember I had 40+ pages of cases to read for my class in the morning. I’d grab a snack and try to cram it and the 40+ pages back as quickly as possible. As a result, I’d usually end up with heartburn and worries that I’d be called on the next day and not understand the holding of the case.

    Last summer, my late nights were weird. I’d stay up late upset over the impending bar exam and trying to remember if I had done everything on my checklist that week for the wedding. I’d quickly switch my brain between my Torts and Criminal Procedure outlines while also reviewing invitation lists.  Then I’d wonder why in the world I couldn’t just turn it all off and get some sleep.

    Lately, my late nights have been different. I spend them dreaming and talking with Adam. Just the other night, for example, we swore that we wouldn’t stay up and talk as we have so many nights as of late. I came home from work around 7:30. We ate dinner, cleaned the kitchen together, and then finalized Adam’s blog post. Afterwards, we played a game of Hanafuda and grabbed a quick shower before turning in.  

    But then, like nearly each night in recent memory, we just talked. We talked about our future kids. We talked about our home. We talked about our families. We talked about our finances. We talked about movies. We talked about how much we loved each other. We talked about our dogs and cats. We talked about philosophy. We talked about politics. We talked about whatever happened to be on the tip of our tongues.

    We laughed. We each tried to hog the bed. We stole covers and pillows. We pushed on each other and called each other names… all the while giggling like school children. And while we both knew that the minutes were ticking by and that soon the morning sun would be calling our names — we both just soaked in the other’s presence.

    Finally, Adam succumbed to sleep but I laid there… dreaming again. 
    A lot has changed since high school but I still have those late nights. But somehow, my late nights now are infinitely better because they are filled with more than just dreams. They are filled by the  stunning reality that I’m lucky enough to have stumbled across the man laying beside me. I’m not sure how it happened. I’m definitely out of the loop as to why. But he’s here — breathing deeply as I lay silently dreaming about a life where neither of us ever runs out of things to say.

  • Life isn’t always blogworthy

    Life isn’t always blogworthy

    Life isn’t always blogworthy. 
    Like on Friday, when Adam called me to say that his tire had blown out on the Interstate and he was sitting at the shop getting a new tire put on. There goes our house project spending money in August.

    Or like when Adam called back to say that apparently the starter had gone out in his car and would have to be replaced immediately or we wouldn’t be able to drive to Texas that afternoon for our niece’s birthday party. There goes our chance to put back any money in savings in August.

    Or like when you go to pick up the car only to find out that it now has a transmission problem and has to be taken to a shop across town for even more work. There goes our mini vacation to Portland in October.

    And like when you find three stray dogs in less than 24 hours and despite your phone calls, online posts, and pleas for help you don’t have anything you can do besides take them to the local shelter with no guarantee that they won’t ever be put down. And you feel like complete and total shit about it… total shit!
    Or like when your entire family comes together for a weekend and it isn’t picture perfect. In fact, it’s far from it. It’s hectic and it’s stressful and you want to pull your freaking hair out. And when you finally get back in your car to leave all you really want to do it curl up and cry because integrating families is tough and personalities clash and life just isn’t fair. 
    Yeah — none of that is blogworthy. It’s just life and sometimes, life just sucks. No one wants to see a picture of Adam and I sitting in silence for a 5 hour car ride because both of us are so angry with each other. And no one wants to see a tutorial on how to transfer money from your savings account to pay off the incredible amount of car repair debt you suddenly accumulated. And no one wants to pin creative graphics about how you can’t afford that trip that you’ve been looking forward to or about how you haven’t had AC in your car all summer so you arrive to work every morning looking like a dog hanging her head out the window.
    Life isn’t always blogworthy. But this blog is supposed to be an honest reflection of our lives so I’m making the choice to share all of this anyhow. 
    I don’t want sympathy because I know it could always be worse. 
    I don’t want pity because I know that in reality, we actually have it really good and that I’m being a baby.

    I guess I do want empathy — because I think we can all relate to having a one too many days in a row when life keeps knocking you down as you continue to find enough ground to stand on. I want to get my balance and start to fight back. I want to laugh it all off and tell Life where she can shove it. But first — Life has to quit kneeing me in the ribs each time I think I can get up. I feel like we’ve all been there — so maybe today, all I really want is to hear that you were once there too and that you eventually found the ability to stand. 

  • Maybe I’m nesting

    Maybe I’m nesting

    Adams says that I’m nesting. I don’t know, maybe I am.  Last night, as I laid down in bed, my mind began to swirl with home projects. I silently reminded myself of all the things we needed to buy or needed to do… before… well? Before what? Maybe Adam is right. He usually is.

    Part of the reason for buying this particular home was that Adam and I could see ourselves living here 5 years from now… 10 years from now… 20 years from now! We knew that it would be a work in progress. So why then am I so freaking anxious to get it all done?

    As I laid silently in bed wondering why I was in such a hurry to tile our garage/washroom passthrough and build our new pantry among other things, I realized that Adam’s jokes about me nesting were probably true. But how in the world can someone nest when they aren’t even sure they are ready for a baby!

    It seems like all of my friends are having/had babies. You know, even the ones I used to silently think never would. And even if I thought they would eventually, I figured I was “ahead” in that race since I was at least married and owned (er… mortgaged?) a home.

    Most days I still wonder if I’d be able to keep a baby alive. I worry that I won’t be attentive enough. I worry that I will sleep through its cries. I worry that I’ll trip walking down the steps at our house and kill us both.

    But other days I spend hours on Pinterest learning about the scoop on cloth diapering and making homemade baby food. I worry that when we start trying, it won’t happen. Then I worry that when we start trying it will happen. I silently picture Adam and I standing over a precious little thing as it sleeps and cringe at the thought of 2:00 a.m. feedings and a kid screaming and me not being able to console it. I window shop for books about getting pregnant and prepping for kids, but then I have an extra glass of wine with dinner and think…”Nah. This is pretty good!”

    I’ll be 28 in a few months. Seriously? How did that happen? I don’t think is 28 is old.. to the contrary actually! But I always assumed that by 28 I’d either already have kids or at least feel prepared for them. I am so, so, so not prepared! Heck — we don’t even have a safe patio area yet! And then with that — I’m back to running through my mental checklist.

    But if that day comes, will a baby care that the passthrough doesn’t have tile or that the pantry doesn’t exist? Probably not. If the patio isn’t safe, we’ll keep the baby inside… it won’t be walking for like what… at least 10 months or so. 10 months + 9 months of pregnancy = 19 months to get the deck done! (Wait! I don’t know how long 19 months is?! Will I become one of those mothers who refers to my kids in month age ranges forever?)

    As my mind raced over all of these things last night, I wondered how I’d ever get to sleep. All of a sudden – as if he were guiding me – Adam inhaled deeply in his sleep and I found myself focused on his breathing. I matched my breathing to his and slowly I felt my fears and my tension subside a bit. I readjusted so that I could just lightly feel his breath on my back. Each time my mind started to race, I told myself, “Focus on his breathing. Just focus. Stop worrying and focus.”

    My to-do list is long and it won’t go away overnight. Likely, there will be quite a bit still on it when we decide to grow our family. When that day comes, I won’t be the best mom in the world, but I’ll make it a day at a time and I’m 95% sure that I won’t kill myself and the baby walking down the front steps.

    For now, I’m just going to focus on breathing… on waking up to new days and new adventures and, of course, slowly checking things off my list.

  • Why I’m not ready for kids… yet

    Why I’m not ready for kids… yet

    I am fairly certain that 90% of non-mommy bloggers either have this post already published on their blog or it is waiting its turn in drafts… So here goes nothing!

    Here’s the thing, I will be 28 in October. Some days, the struggle to keep my ovaries calm is for real yo. I mean it. I have to pass by the park every single day coming home from work … and let me tell you! Whew! The sight of those kids swinging and squealing as they come down the slide just really makes me want to act rashly. But then I have moments when I understand that I am simply not ready.

    For example, yesterday my sister and my brother-in-law dropped by our house in Little Rock on their way back home to Texas from visiting a friend in Nashville. (That was a lot of locations in one sentence!) That meant that Adam and I got to see our niece, Lizzie, for the first time in nearly 3 months! I was STOKED. She is walking now and it was so amazing to hold her, chase her, play with her, hug her, tease her, and feed her. I ate up every last second. She is too cute for words and holding her, this child that I love so much, I get really excited about loving something that is a part of me and a part of Adam… the miracle of biology and the like.

    You know — there are a million reasons why I probably shouldn’t have children at this very second. You know them because they are the exact same reason that every blogger puts in post like these… The lack of booze and sleep. The fear about losing their body. The idea of being so responsible. The fact they like having their husband all to themselves at the moment. All of those reasons apply to me as well. (Oh, and before spending money on baby, perhaps I should make sure that all the rooms in our new home have furniture!) The list really goes on and on…

    But after being with little Lizzie for almost 2 hours, a whole new reason hit me… I just can’t keep up. I was seriously exhausted after she left. Once those little suckers learn to use their legs you have to constantly be on guard to make sure they don’t get into crap. I didn’t realize the peril that they can so easily get into…

    Lizzie was tugging on the lamp’s electrical cord, falling down on the tile floor, tugging at the dog’s tail, crawling off towards the bathroom, tearing up the blinds. At every turn I just kept thinking about how fragile, yet resilient, she is right now. While she made me laugh, it also terrified me. I don’t know how anyone can keep up with the kid and parents have to do it on less sleep than us Aunts and Uncles who only get a small taste of it. Yes. That’s a BIG reason why I am just not ready to be a mom quite yet.

    My heart might swoon when I see Adam holding our Lizzie. But for a bit longer, I will have to tell my ovaries to chill. It’s just not time… yet.

  • Making plans to climb my mountain…

    Making plans to climb my mountain…

    As of late, there is a voice inside my head that I can’t drown out…

    It reminds me constantly that we only get so many years in this world. We must make decisions as to how we will spend those years — building homes? making families? earning promotions? getting raises? watching Netflix? taking naps? building dreams?

    Yes. Lately, I want to build my own dreams.

    I don’t know what those dreams are quite yet, but I do know what they will involve.

    More time with Adam.
    More time on this blog.
    More time writing.
    More time at home.
    More laughter.
    More adventure.
    Less unnecessary stress.
    Less feeling out of control.
    Less working on someone else’s dreams.
    Less worries.
    Less fears of failure.
    Less boredom.

    It is almost as if I am standing at the base of a mountain. I’ve been scared to climb it for too long because I don’t know what the other side looks like. Is it a plentiful valley that will be a source of happiness? Or is it a deep gorge with little provisions for a happy life?

    For years, I have worked on a path on this side of the mountain because it was the side I could see. It wasn’t always the place that I truly desired to be, but it seemed safe enough and well honestly, it was easier to dream about what could potentially lie on the other side of the mountain than to actually climb the damn thing.

    But you know, this side of the mountain isn’t as comfortable as it used to be. In fact, looking around, I get a little scared about spending the rest of my life here. It isn’t like this side won’t provide for me — it will. But will it truly fulfill me? I have my doubts…


    It scares me to even consider leaving my safe side of the mountain and starting a climb into the unknown. Hell — even making plans for the climb makes my heart race. But I’m starting to wonder if it is racing in a good way. Because maybe, just maybe, if I finally get the guts to climb this thing, I’ll discover that something more amazing than anything I ever could have imagined was right on the other side waiting for me this entire time…

    And wouldn’t that be wonderful?

  • Comparison is the thief of joy….

    Comparison is the thief of joy….

    Photo Credit

    Several years ago I heard this quote and it spoke to me. Like everyone else, I was guilty of sometimes always comparing my life to the lives of other people. I constantly compared whether my clothes were as nice, my car as new, my house as big, my friends as fun, etc. At the time, I was deeply unhappy and so I decided to quit the “comparing” habit cold turkey. It was liberating. 

    Suddenly, it didn’t matter if I lived in a small downtown apartment, because I loved the way the light came through the big windows on Saturday mornings and that was enough for me. I didn’t care if so-and-so had found their soul mate, because I was content being single and watching SATC on Friday nights. As I said, it was liberating.

    Recently however, this quote has taken on an entirely different meaning for me and once again, it is time for me to liberate myself.

    You see, I no longer compare my life to those of others (well, most of the time at least) but I do constantly compare my reactions. I may sound a little “braggy” here, but I am a good friend. I am a good daughter. I am a good sibling. I’m not the most amazing person in the universe and I have my flaws without a doubt, but feeling joy and excitement for the people that I love just isn’t one of them.

    I am the first person to be completely over the moon when a friend tells me about a new guy they are dating. Or when someone moves into their first home. Or when a baby announcement is made. Or when some lucky guy pops the question. I really am. If I genuinely love you, then all of these events are significant to me because they are significant to you.

    I’m the friend who buys custom gifts for your house warming. I’m the person who takes time away from studying for finals to help you move. I am the girl that spends entirely too much money on a baby shower gift at Target. I am the friend that quite literally will sit and listen to you gab about your new job, new house, new sofa, new baby, new hobby, new car for hours!

    But I compare. You see, when something BIG happens in my life, I look around me and try to gauge everyone’s reactions. Not only do I expect for them to be happy for me but I unfairly expect them to be as excited as I would be if the shoe were on the opposite foot. That’s unfair of me.

    Yet, when they inevitably go about their lives and don’t offer to buy a bottle of wine and let me talk about my excitement to my heart’s content, I get upset at them. That’s unfair of me.

    But it is also unfair to me because it steals my joy! And just when I am supposed to be over-the-moon excited about something, I am left wondering if ____________ loves me as much as I love them. I am left wondering why ____________ wouldn’t be as happy for me as I was for them. I get angry because ____________ didn’t offer me the help that I offered them. The list goes on…

    So this quote still has a lot of teaching left to do. I do not need to compare my reactions to those of anyone else. Instead, I need to realize that each of us handle life differently and react to our friends and family differently. In this moment, I want my joy. I will no longer throw it away with comparison to how other people react to my joy. It is mine. I’m claiming it.