Warning: Pity Party Commenced

Do you ever feel like you are just not cut out for real life? It's too hard. You look at those who you may have once accused of being coddled and think, Man, they have it made! And your friends who have it even tougher than you and think, How do they do it?? You may dream of beaches, warm sand, the sound of a never ending tide that washes back and forth, tuning out the struggles that weigh so heavily on your frail heart. And then wake up and realize you are still here. In the real world. And boy does it suck.

Too often in life I am caught between the act of dreaming and doing in this awkward and rather claustrophobic spot of surviving. Survival sounds like such a tough word, one used to describe the strong and determined. But if you've ever been there, you know how terribly weak and small it feels. Survival is not on the warm sand by the rhythmic tide, survival is in the midst of the waves. Crashing down on you. Your only job is to keep your head above water, and most of the time that feels like much too much.

Let me clarify... I am in the midst of packing up my house. Again. And to make matters worse, it's the first day of fall. So naturally I am procrastinating by writing a sappy post about how hard life is. It's kind of my thing. I'm sipping my second cup of coffee, complaining about the freezing "fall" weather (it's 61 degrees! It might as well be winter!), grumbling about all the idiots romantics oohing and ahhing about this pumpkin-flavor-filled season, and feeling extra depressed about the fact that my pregnancy/stress-eating weight is still safely attached to my body--meaning I won't be fitting any of my cool weathered clothes any time soon.

Don't get me wrong, there is plenty to be thankful for. It's just, it's the first day of fall. And I'm moving again. So I'm going to pout for a bit.