Doing the Difficult Thing

Weekends can be rough when you have little to no friends. Ryan and I spent Friday night withering away on our computers in our apartment, as I mentally beat up on myself for not having a vibrant social life by my third weekend in this new place. I struggle with guilt, and knowing this I kept trying to give myself little pep talks: Give it time. This is normal. You are not going to feel like this forever. I was beating myself up for being unhappy in a tropical climate; as if the “At least it’s warm there!” brightside would solve all my problems—it doesn’t. The pity party continued Saturday night; I literally called everyone in my phone (all 5 of them) in an effort to get out of the house, to no avail. Over Skype my mom implored me to join clubs, do crafts, learn to cook, or develop some new hobby.

Her suggestions themselves were good ideas, and I knew that they came from her mother’s heart, from the deep and soft part of her that loves me desperately and sees me as an extension of herself. However, the more suggestions she threw my way, the more frustrated I became. “Mom, I don’t have any money and I don’t want to learn to knit!” I explained (not very kindly or patiently) that her lists of all the things I could be doing only made me feel worse for not doing them. How many people would love to have a free Friday night? I felt horrible because I am 21 and healthy and intelligent and doing exactly what I want to do with my life, and yet I spent my Saturday night whining and waiting for an episode of Mad Men to download on our slooooowww internet.

Weekend nights are the hardest. Workdays are full of clients, email, spreadsheets, marketing, and loan portfolios. Even though work can be frustrating and difficult, the challenge makes me feel good. I spend weekend days at the beach letting the sun warm my skin and lift my spirits. Yesterday I was lying on the beach thinking about the sad little weekend I had just “survived,” and I think I made some attitude progress.

I realized that being successful doesn’t take just one difficult step like moving to Mexico. It takes the courage to keep stepping to places outside your comfort zone. Although I was not excited about learning new skills or finding hobbies to keep me busy, I realized that there are things I can do to feel better here, to make this place my home. What bothers me about developing hobbies is that they seem so trivial, like ways to get my mind off of things instead of becoming truly happy with my reality.

For example, I need to take care of my body. I need to be hydrated and well rested. I need to be eating healthy food and exercising regularly. These are things that I can do, and I know that doing them will improve my outlook and give me energy. So often after a hard day I don’t want to try a new exercise class or put myself in yet another new and unfamiliar situation; I’m tired! But just like eating a ton of junk food after a hard day doesn’t actually make you feel better, many of the easy, knee-jerk things that I want to do in my free time can actually make me feel worse. I need to focus on those things that really will help me in the long run.

Honestly I still don’t have a good attitude about this.
I wish it were just easy.
I’m working on it.
Amy