The window has officially closed.

I think it’s human nature – perhaps female nature? – to flat out romanticize situations.  You get caught up in the what-if’s and the possibilities and forget the facts and all the billion reasons why it’s not a good idea.  Everything is so much better with the blinders and the rose colored glasses, you only see what is good, and not what is really there.  It’s hard to break out of that, it’s hard to keep yourself logical.  I hate not being logical.

Things don’t always work out the way you wish they would.  100% of the time, that is for the best.  Yes, I mean that.  100% of the time.   Because there is always something better.  A better job, a better car, a better home, a better person.  At least that’s what I have to tell myself when things don’t pan out in the ridiculous, outlandish, crazily perfect way that I always envision.  Not getting what you want builds character, helps you accept life for what it is.  Or something like that.  Honestly though?  I’m really a brat that gets pretty upset when I don’t get what I want.  Or who I want.  I eventually get to the point that I am okay with it, though.  Eventually.

Here’s the real issue; I am a perpetual ‘grass is greener’ person.  It’s horrible.  I always think, “Things would be better if…” and that just isn’t the case.  Being happy in the moment, in who you are, in the life that God has given (which is more than I have ever deserved), that’s a really difficult place to get to and ultimately live.  Things are really, really good.  When I back up and stop counting all of the things I don’t have and start counting all of the things I do have, it’s not even close in comparison.  Not even in the ballpark.  I am so blessed and fortunate and should be embarrassed to ever consider myself otherwise.

Getting back to the point of things not working out the way you think they should; Is there a better feeling than the feeling of knowing you’re finally over a situation?  You’ve thought about it, harped on it, thought it was a great idea, whined about it, cried about it, prayed about it, gotten angry about it, and finally gotten to the point that it just doesn’t matter anymore.  You’re just over it.  This happened to me recently, and I can clearly look back on the situation and know why it happened the way it did (and the way it didn’t) and realize it was all for the best. The entire situation, just like everything, God worked together for my good.  You can’t beat that.

Here’s the thing.

I’ve attempted this first ‘entry’ (update, blog, whatever) about a million times and I can’t seem to find the right words to say.  I think too much about what I will say next, which is a total problem, so here are my efforts at free thoughts flowing on paper (print?).  I’d like to be as honest as I can be, leave this public, and let everyone I know read it.  I’ve never done that before.  Typically, everything I write is under strict lock and key, but this is a new approach.  We’ll see how long it lasts.

In 22 days I will be 26 years old.  Four years from 30, closer to 30 than 20, fudging it when I say ‘mid-twenties’ — and that’s fine.  I always thought things would be different by this age, that I would have everything all figured out, because it always seemed like that’s what people do.  Well, I don’t.  Not even close.  Nothing has worked out how I assumed it would (assuming really does make an a…, you know) and coming to terms with that, with what felt/feels like the misdirection of my life, has been unbelievably hard.

The pressure for young women to marry (especially in a rural area), is smothering.  I think about what my life would be like and how normal I would feel if I lived anywhere else, anywhere other than Eastern Kentucky.  But, I don’t.  I live here, and I love it, I love everything about our small towns, the hills, and how absolutely beautiful everything is this time of year (my favorite time of year).  People tell me all the time, “Well, you could move.” and yeah, I could, but it wouldn’t be home.  As much as I love it, it doesn’t stop me from feeling like a unicorn (on good days, because unicorns are pretty) or a three legged dog with mange (on most days, because I wonder if I have the plague).

Comparison is the root of all things evil, truly.  But, it’s hard to not compare yourself to those closest to you.  Of all of my closest friends, I’m the only unmarried, and not just unmarried, but so single.  So incredibly single.  Like, third wheel in every situation single.  Perpetually single.  Look in all the wrong places and think you’ve found something decent single.  Cat lady single.  Eating Doritos in bed at 1am single.  Can’t even find a guy to go to UK games with you single.  You get the picture.  It’s hard to not feel like something is fundamentally wrong with you and to not think something about you keeps people away (I mean, other than the fact that I eat Doritos in bed at 1am. Whatever.).

But, there’s nothing wrong with me.  That doesn’t negate that I am a total mess, but there is nothing wrong with me.  So what, things haven’t turned out exactly like I thought they would, or anything like I thought they would, there’s nothing I can do about any of it.  So what, I’m 26 and live with my Mama.  So what, who cares?  The hardest part of not being like everyone else is accepting the fact that you aren’t like everyone else and just not caring anymore.  I’m working on that.

I always worked under the assumption that by 26, something would make sense.  I never assumed (again, it really does make a butt of everyone involved, but probably just me in this instance) that I would be like a hamster running in circles on that 22 year old fresh out of college wheel, struggling to move forward with growing up, with moving out of my parents house, and with life in general.  But, here I am, figuring things out on my own, moving at a snails pace.  For whatever reason, the idea of documenting my crazy seems kind of fun.  And scary.  And probably regretful sometime in the future.  We’ll see.