Who’s up for a metaphor or twenty?

For the past few weeks, I’ve been struggling a bit trying to figure out what to write. There’s been some stuff going on lately but it’s not really mine to share and even if it were, I don’t think I would. I think that part of my problem with finding things to blog about is that I don’t really fit into any one category of blogging. As far as I know, and feel free to correct me if I’m wrong, most bloggers tend to pick a subject they’re really interested in and stick with it. You’ve got food, fashion, travel, gardening, books, lifestyle, etc.

I’ve never actually fit into any one category. Growing up I was mostly a tomboy, but I also secretly wanted some of the girly stuff my friends had. Though growing up with two older brothers and a tomboy older sister, girly things kinda sat by the wayside. I loved watching action movies with my dad (who else remembers Danny Glover stuck on the toilet?)

and re-watching Spirit and Tarzan (both of which had some kickass soundtracks, thank you Bryan Adams and Phil Collins). I was seven. And right now, my mother is questioning why it was that my dad let me watch Lethal Weapon at seven. Bad Boys was also a thing at the age. Soz not soz mum I’m sure you knew…

Continuing on. I’ve got Disturbed and Taylor Swift as regulars on my Spotify. I believe Whoopie Goldberg as Sister Mary Clarence called this being eclectic.

I’m well aware that I’m not the first person in existence to have a wide range of interests and enjoy many genres. Wasn’t saying that I wasn’t, my main point is that sometimes it can be bit difficult to find something to write about. I’m cursed with having too many options.

Then again, I could have pigeonholed myself as being a specific type of blogger and find myself not able to get out.

Who here has seen ‘How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days’? For those who haven’t here’s a quick rundown of the part that’s valid to this post. Andie Anderson is the How-To girl for a woman’s magazine. Problem is that she is interested in writing about more than How to Feng shui your apartment or How to get out of a speeding ticket. She wants to write about politics and foreign affairs, but she can’t, BECAUSE she works for Composure. She’s the How-To girl. She loves and loses all for the opportunity to write about something that she cares about and her boss informs her that she can write about whatever she wants, so long as it fits within Composure. Spoiler alert. Foreign affairs don’t really fit between the articles on facials and how to wear heels all day without wanting to cut off your own feet.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not ragging on bloggers who have picked a specific topic and are sticking with it. Anyone who can find a new way to write a post about travelling when we’re all in lockdown or 8 new ways to hide pumpkin in food for even the fussiest kids, power to you. No seriously. Not only do I enjoy preparing for parenthood years in advance, Matt is a far fussier eater than he likes to let on. Also, that wearing heels thing would be fun to know too…

Hey, I enjoy my ass looking good and not being in pain. Sue me.

When I really think about it this is something that I’ve been struggling with since I first started the blog. I looked at other authors and their blogs and Instagram’s and tried to figure out what the best way for me to go about setting up my own. Bookstagramers. God, I love looking at them. They have these perfectly aesthetically pleasing bookshelves and their posts are so…well put together. Like seriously. Have you seen them?

I was also insanely jealous of these people. Not only because of their amazing libraries but how well they’ve put them together and make their posts look. It frustrated me that I couldn’t achieve those same results.

I had to come to terms with a few things surrounding this issue. For one, I just don’t have the eye to take a perfect picture like they do. I mean. I could set things up exactly like they do and take the photo, but it won’t look the same. I feel like I can paint a pretty decent picture in the mind, but when it comes to taking one…not so much. Two, I do not have the patience. Three. Seriously. I can write out the plot to a novel and somehow come up with a whole new novel for the series but cannot for the life of me figure out how to set up a good shot. The picture on the home page of my desk and my cat, that was a fluke mixed with some very good editing by a much beloved friend. The photo of my bookshelves also had some wonderful editing… Are you sensing a pattern here?

I am.

Anyways.

Eventually there comes a point when you have to stop comparing yourself to other people.

Holy shit.

I think I just found a moral of the blog post.

Now you get to bear witness to me exploring the moral. Or not.

When you spend a ridiculous amount of time comparing yourself to other people (and you get to be the decider of what qualifies as ridiculous) you can get very lost in what they’re doing and lose sight of where you’re going. It’s the whole “the grass is greener on the other side” thing but worded differently because that’s what really helps drive the metaphor home.

Don’t water someone else’s lawn and neglect your own. Unless you’re housesitting and they have a freshly laid lawn which requires frequent watering to help it establish. Coughbrotherdearestcough.

Recently I was able to reconnect with an old school friend and we went fairly in depth into the whole idea of comparing one’s own accomplishments to that of someone else. It was something we had both struggled with for a bit and managed to find our way out of the deep dark hole that is crippling self-doubt. I personally now occupy a much shallower hole called occasional self-doubt which is also filled with the salty waters of sarcasm. I like this this hole a little more.

It was encouraging in a way to know that I hadn’t been alone in my self-doubt, which maybe says something about me.

In the years after graduation I witnessed a growing list of people my age who were having babies, getting engaged, getting married, buying houses etc. etc. Some of these things were happening before we’d even turned 20. I’m pretty sure one of the girls from my year announced that she was a few months pregnant right after graduation.

Now generally teen pregnancy isn’t something that people aim for, but it still had me feeling like I was “behind” somehow. I know, it sounds crazy but hear me out.

By 20, I knew at least a dozen people I had graduated with who were achieving the aforementioned milestones. Keeping in mind that I went to a Christian school and many of those getting married were strongly Christian, abstinence til marriage and everything. It’s been noted that the age of marriage amongst this group tends to be younger than some others. I’m not knocking it at all. Your body, your choice, you do you.

Bear with me because there is a point here. Now aside from the obvious benefits of being a young mum (hello Gilmore Girls), I know that if I had earned that particular trophy early on, my life would be completely different. I imagine that Matt and I would have met somehow, somewhere down the line, but it wouldn’t have been when it was. I probably still would’ve taken a leave of absence from university but maybe I wouldn’t have had time to write my book. I would’ve had the support of my family, my parents especially, but I would have still been working full time to be able to support myself and not be a financial burden on them. I wouldn’t have the house that I have now with the cats that I have now. Let’s face it, with how religious Matt’s mum is, he probably wouldn’t have been allowed to date me once she found out about my mini me.

If I’d gotten married at 20…. well actually Matt and I met when we were 20 so that wouldn’t have turned out too badly…alright let’s push that back a year…nineteen. Who was I dating at nineteen…?

I don’t like where this is going, and I think I’ve proven my point if only to myself.

STOP COMPARING YOUR ACHIEVEMENTS TO SOMEONE ELSES!

I haven’t really kept up the Facebook stalking of the people I mentioned but whenever they pop up whether it be online or in real life, it seems to be that their life choices have worked out for them. I know that for many that that is not the case. Many realise too late that they’ve rushed into something that isn’t as easily taken back. I applaud those that made the right decision for themselves and hope that those that didn’t are able to learn from their mistakes and make future choices that make them happy.

I could spend all day looking at the About the Author pages in the back of books and comparing the age they were when they published their first book to how old I am now. I’ve actually done that once. It was not a good day for my self-esteem. But the thing is, it doesn’t matter how old Sarah J. Maas was when she finished her first novel. She’s written an amazing series that I will re-read and probably cry over for years and years to come. It doesn’t matter how long it took me to finish my first novel because I got there and as it turns out, I inspired a twelve-year-old boy to write his own novel.

Props to dad for pushing my book on all his co-workers. Who needs paid advertising when you have really proud parents?

Side note because the above may have been unclear. My dad suggested my book to an adult co-worker with a teenage son, the co-worker read the book, deemed it appropriate and her son was inspired to write his own book.

My dad’s co-workers are not twelve-year old’s.

I think.

I am fairly certain.

Where was I?

Oh right, just one more time for those who are still mildly confused.

Stop judging your successes based on the successes of others.

What works for one does not necessarily work for another.

Don’t judge the intelligence of a fish based on its ability to climb a tree.

…

That last one still works in this context if you consider yourself to be the fish.

Alright, I think that’s enough out of me for now. Mixing sleep deprivation and caffeine only works for so long. So, if you have made it this far into the post, congrats and thank you. Here’s a few fun pictures for your trouble. Now my brothers can stop complaining that there aren’t enough pictures in the things I write.