faking it.... friendships in your 30's

You would think that making friends gets easier as you get older. Right? No. Nope. Just not so. Or not for me. Here I am smack in the middle of my thirties still trying to figure this whole friendship thing out. Don't get me wrong I have a few. I think three constitutes a few... well a couple would be 2 and I have I am pretty sure one more than that, so lets go with a few. And if you count my mother then that's four and that could technically make a bunch. But a bunch sounds like a lot... like yeah I have bunch of friends... oh who are they?.... Ummmm you know... well my mom is one... For the sake of keeping it real I have a few friends. And the ones I have I love and I wouldn't trade them for a million dollars. On most days. Cause some days I think I'd give my kidney for a million bucks and lets face it I'd be cool with dropping the count to reflect a couple over a few to keep that kidney.

Anyways... friendships are hard. In particular if you are a giver. I am. I am a giver. I give and give and give until I have nothing left. The problem with that is takers are often drawn to givers. And people like myself have a hard time drawing lines and creating boundaries so we often let takers bleed us dry. By that I mean we over invest. We go the extra mile. We make that phone call. We send that text. We buy that thoughtful little something. We listen even when we aren't heard. We show up. And we don't expect much in return. Because givers also understand that takers don't operate in the same manner, so we... forgive. Overlook. Make excuses. Until  the slights and blatant disregard adds up to the undeniable fact that you are in a one sided friendship. And even then, walking away is not easy.

Yes even walking away is hard. Walking away means admitting that you just don't mean as much to that person. And that is a hard thing to admit when you have overextended in so many ways. When you have extended an invitation on every occasion but the offer is rarely if ever reciprocated. When you have listened for countless hours to some one else's struggles and heart ache but cant remember the last time they asked simply how you are doing. When you have shown up for every important event and then listened to the excuses of their busy life when they don't show up for you. It's the hurt in going the extra mile when you often are not even met half way. The realization that you do too much for the ones that you mean so little to.

Even in knowing these truths givers don't change. It is our nature to be the way we are and being anything different, anything less just doesn't make sense. Givers learn the face of fake friendships but are deceived time and time again by the takers. Yet somehow in the disappointment we learn more about ourselves and how to take better care of us. We learn to use this gift of constant giving to change what little space of this planet we occupy. We learn to seek out like minded people and form better more meaningful friendships. Other givers that understand the delicate balance of a solid relationship and know how to not take advantage.

Friendships have always been a struggle for me, but with each failed friendship I hold tighter the ones that have lasted. I have a greater appreciation for the few that always show up, stay connected, and genuinely give so much of themselves back. As for the rest I have learned to fake it, and when to let go.

Back to me

Every Thanksgiving, the holiday I love the most starts this downward spiral for me. I spend the next month and a half being a glutton. I over eat. I over indulge. I get lazy. In turn I get fat. For weeks on end its all cookies, and cheese, and wine and blowing cash at Toys R Us in an attempt to make my spoiled children excited about a visit from a magical fat man.

The holidays come and go and so does my motivation to live any sort of healthy life. I am that person. The one that most of social media apparently despises. The chubby girl that NEEDS some new year, new you bullshit to get my ass in gear. I make no apologies for it. Whatever illogical thoughts transpire in my brain... nothing gives me more hope than the prospect of a fresh start.

Yes January 1st is just another day on the calendar. But it is also the first page of an unwritten book. The story of my life in the year 2017. It excites me. Scares me. Makes me anxious. What will this year have in store for me. If there is a resolution to be made this is the day I'm going to lay it down. This may also be where I set myself up for failure. My goals are usually ridiculous. Completely out of touch with my reality.  I know that... and even so I am determined to make this year my year!

January 1st 2017. I sat at the table with a blank piece of paper in front of me. Written at the top... New Year Resolutions. What can I say I like to write. I tried to reflect on all the things that I was not happy about in the prior year. What could I do differently? How could I be better?

First thing on my mind is always my boys. At times I have felt like I am just blowing this whole mom thing! Some days its hard to not feel as though my oldest son is just slipping right through my grasp. He declares his hate for me almost daily. He's annoyed by pretty much everything I say to him. He rolls his eyes so hard when I talk I wonder if I will ever see anything but the whites of his eyes ever again. I often think how did we get here? Is it just the age? Is it me? Did I feel this way about my mother at his age? We get into these screaming matches that make me question my sanity. My parenting. Myself. And it is the worst feeling in the world.

Second on the list. My weight. Ugh my weight. I am so tired of being fat. So tired of being out of shape. Looking and feeling unhealthy. I am tired of dodging everyone with a camera cause I do not want photo documentation of my fat ass at various sizes. I want to be the size I was when I first thought I was fat. Which was high school. Ironically when I was my thinnest. I look at pictures of that girl and wonder where she went. Although I realize happiness is not waiting in the pocket of a smaller size pair of jeans... I am dying to get in them.

Those were the two big ones among a long list.... Work more on building my business. Save money. Consistently write my blog. Be more involved in charity work....

Notice there is nothing in there about my marriage. Well that's because I am the perfect wife. Just don't ask my husband to confirm that.

Anyway staring at this list of overwhelming things I decided to make one simple resolution.

BE BETTER.

That's it. Just. BE. BETTER. No new year new me. I have reached that point in my life where I realized I have worked really hard to get here and I am most of the time content with my life. I don't want to scrap it all and start over. I just want to be better. A better mother, a better wife, a better friend. I want to be healthy and present. I want to be the best version of me that I can be. I think that is what we all want.

How do I get to that... I am not entirely sure. But I am working on small changes. Little attainable goals. Like yelling less. Listening more. Taking care of my neglected body and not by doing some radical diet but making better choices and moving more. Really just getting back to me. At the end of this year I want to be able to look back and instead wondering where that 18 year old version of myself went I want to feel like she is still part of me! So maybe the only way to be better is to seriously get BACK. TO. ME.

Before you go... leave a comment and tell me what your goals are for this year!
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