More Often Than Not...

What do you do when your, ever so often days, turn into your more often than not days?  For me, I feel like I've been in a rut. Ever so often, I like to sit on the couch and watch an old movie or just veg out in front of the tv, but more often than not (damn you Netflix!), I find myself sitting on the couch and watching an old movie with Shirley Temple, Joseph Cotton, or Cary Grant; or I'm just catching up on the latest of House Hunters. I just can't tear myself away.  

Ever so often I would love to take a bath, but I find myself wanting one more and more and more, even though my hubby isn't a big fan because of the water waste.  Today, he even gave his blessing on my bathly desires because of how hard I worked on shoveling the snow... like he had a choice.

Ever so often, I wouldn't mind the snow in New York.  I would see beautiful snowy landscapes out of our window and I would think wow, we've really got a nice setup here.  More often than not, with our eighth storm of the season, I find myself hating the fact that we bought a house in New York because we have to plow the driveway, we have to clean the porches—we have to do everything!  I used to feel so spoiled in the winter when I didn't have to do any of that stuff, more often than not, that princess, spoiled stuff has been thrown out the window, in a snowstorm. I find myself shoveling.  A lot.  Today, I sat on the couch before my hubby went to work and he asked me what my game plan was for the day in order to take care of the snow while he was gone; what's my game plan?  My game plan is to pout every second that I'm in the snow, that's my game plan! And I succeeded.  I went outside and tried really hard to figure out how the hell to get the snow up over the mounds that were already there from the previous storms; I kept cursing the storm and kicking the snow—maybe I should've had a game plan after all.  After finishing the driveway an hour later, I felt like I accomplished something, but then I remembered that I had to clear a pathway to the porches and to the propane tank.  I stood there and I cried...  

More often than not, I find myself crying; about silly things, about nothing.  It's not that I'm sad, I'm a happy person and I love every second of my life.  But things that I would think of as an accomplishment, have become a burden or a worry.  My hubby worries about things around the house falling apart, so I've found myself having the same little OCD things; will this break, how would we pay for this if something broke, is this safe, can I hang that there or is there not a stud in the wall, will we be able to sell when my hubby retires??? I blame him for all of this.  I love him to death, but his worrywart-ness has become a burden that I now bare...

Ever so often I would go into work and I would think to myself, "how the hell did I end up here, how did I end up bartending for a living?" More often than not, I look around me and think how lucky I am to have a job that pays well and is pretty darn steady;  I work with great people, I have a great boss, and I have customers who have become a part of our little work family.  More often than not i count my blessings that I have a great job...

More often than not I think about the struggle that I have with my weight. Instead of being happy that I'm at a good weight, I think that I could easily get back to being that fourteen year old who weighed 192lbs.  I refuse to ever get back up there again, or be close to it.  I'm 26 going on 27 and more often than not I still find myself hating the image that I see in the mirror.  No matter the stupid shit I did to myself as a teen, I still did everything to my body on my own.  The person that's in the mirror is me; good or bad.  More often than not, I hate when my hubby brings up anything that has to remotely do with weight; he'll never understand.  But I need a change.  A for good change though, not just a, "to get me through bathing suit season" kind of change...  

More often than not I take solitude in the happiness that I have when I'm alone.  Sometimes I wish that I still had the friends that I had in high school, but I know as an adult that I have the best friends that a person could ever ask for, even if I don't get to see them that often. But I've got two great friends that I can count on in life, not including my mom and my hubby.  Ever so often I think about why I've lost friends over the years; was I not a good friend, was I not a good person?  People change, I've changed over the years.  People grow together or they grow a part.  Some people just grow differently, they have different desires.  I find myself sad over the friendships I've lost or the ones that never got there chance to grow, but I find myself rejoicing over the friendships that I know I'll keep forever.

More often than not, I miss my brothers.  One lives in Vermont, the other in Florida.  I find myself yearning for that joking, wise ass, family that I grew up with.  I wish I could go see my brother for his thirtieth birthday.  Sometimes plans just can't work.  I find myself wanting family more than anything.  When I was younger we had family dinners every week; we're trying to start that tradition again.  Something to feel connected; more often than not my hubby and I are in our own little world separated from everybody—just me, the hubby, and the puppy.  Sometimes you need more than just the person who sleeps next to you at night; you need the people who've seen you since birth and grew up with you on every step you took on your journey through life (including the braces and bad hair days)...

More often than not I start thinking about far away places.  Anywhere but here.  I want to be at that happy place where we don't live for our jobs.  I think about where I'd be if my parents grew up in California instead of New York; would I be a bleach blonde California girl?  Would I be thin?  Would that make my self image better?  

One day I'll get there.  Being happy no matter what the day brings.  More often than not I find that my hubby's smile is the best part of my day. Having him say he loves me, before I say I love you to him, is even better.  More often than not I find myself questioning everything I do.  I always thought that by 26 I would figure it out; do I want to be a writer, a musician, a mother,  do I just take my chance and go for it?  More often than not I find that I want to chance it and try to write music, somehow, someway.  More often than not, I think that the stress that I put on myself with trying to become a mother, is just not healthy.  I've lost myself.  Maybe it's just not meant to be, maybe it's not meant for me...

Do you ever find yourself thinking, how did I get here?  

Where do I want to be? Am I there?

More often than not, I find myself knowing that my life will turn out to be exactly how I dreamed it would be—half my dream is already with me every night when I sleep next to him.  I know we'll end up there- but More often than not, it feels like life gets in the way of the big picture...