Day 1 of 365: I’m doing all the right things. WHERE’S MY STUFF, UNIVERSE?!

It’s rather frustrating when things don’t go my way.
And I don’t just mean in the grand scheme of life, where I figured I’d be a millionaire by now. Sure, that’s frustrating. But what really grinds my gears and tests my years of therapy work is when people do things differently than I do.
And I don’t mean how they dress (unless a man has a shirt tucked in with no belt, an offense which is punishable by severe silent judgment) or what their cultural or spiritual beliefs are.
I mean the real serious stuff.
Like the way my boyfriend opens a package of ground lamb.
In my world, there is one correct way to open said package. ONLY ONE.
(When doodling it, I started to feel guilty because lamb is a baby sheep and that’s really sad, so I changed it to ground BEANS.)
The tab on the ground beans package even says, “to open, pull here.” And when one listens to said instructions, the square cube thing of mushed ground beans effortlessly plops out of the container. Zero fuss or mess.
AND THEN BOYFRIEND COMES ALONG WITH SCISSORS and cuts across the packaging and then squeezes the ground beans into the pan like he’s playing with Play-Doh. It takes way longer and some of the beans are left in the packaging when he throws it away.
And so, naturally, after I’ve pretended to mix the pizza dough while glaring at him through my peripheries, I’m like: “Hey, you know there’s an easier way to open the beans, right?”
And he’s like, “I’m not an idiot. I know how to open beans.”
So I say, “I don’t think you’re an idiot. It’s just… There’s a pull tab… And…” I then proceed to explain the correct way.
And then he gets triggered because it brings up the early years when I would hound him about the correct number of paper towels to use, how to appropriately clean the kitchen (I even made a checklist and posted it on the fridge), and the right foods to eat, and and and.
I think I’m jealous, honestly.
When we’re cooking, I’m like, “According to the internets, we need 1.27 tablespoons of this one specific seasoning,” and while I’m measuring perfectly… He’s over there humming and flinging magically delicious seasonings on the meal.
UNMEASURED seasonings. Goddess forbid.
And then it tastes better than anything I’ve ever made, which stresses me out… because now there’s no way to exactly recreate that experience.
See… Andy is this beautiful artist person who intuitively feels his way through life without needing instructions, and he trusts the universe. I call him Mr. Patience and Master Manifestor because he has this super power to trust that good shit is coming his way and then he lives his life doing things he enjoys, strumming his guitar and hanging with friends, in full expectancy of his dreams coming true.
And then… they do.
He’ll be like, “I really want a new pair of shoes.”
And then a week later he’ll be like, “Hey! I won a pair of shoes I really wanted in a contest at work!”
And on the outside I’m like:
jen doodle yay
And on the inside I’m like:
angry jen doodle free shoes
And then he’ll decide he wants a job somewhere. That’s it. He’ll make the decision, and get excited about working there.
He won’t push it.
And then five months later they’re creating a new position for him to work there.
So. He’s a natural at this Law of Attraction stuff. Yknow. Decide what you want, then act as though you already have it. Let go and trust.
I get how that works. I’ve read lots of books on it and listened to guided meditations. I’m a booksmart pro at Law of Attraction.
In practice, though, my approach could use some work. Or maybe less work.
I’m like, “I want a grasshopper origami.” (I want it given to me. I don’t want it to be one I’ve made.)
And then! It’s time to get to work to show the universe how serious I am.


10x peer dayt doodle

manifest meditation

I do ALL the “right” things based on the books and my research and…
empty hand


And so I’m at this point in my life where I’m like… “I don’t think it’s supposed to be this hard.” And by “it” I mean LIFE. Because holy snikeys do I stress myself out about doing everything right and using all the moments of each day so as not to waste time and to be kind to everyone, especially the mean people and and and…
And I forget to live life.
I forget to have fun.
That’s what this blog is all about. Letting go & leaving it up to chance. Enjoying life and letting my happiness guide me rather than my desperate longing.
1 day down, 364 to go.
signature 2
P.S. But. Like. I still expect a grasshopper origami out of the deal. To be clear.

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Some days, I paint. Other days, I write. And rap. And tell stories. And do comedy. And doodle. And [attempt to] bake. And, one week out of every month, I merge with my sofa and sob about mortality and things like the existence of air and how we can't live without it and how utterly claustrophobic that is to consider. I'm relatively particular. And this is a place for me to share ALL the quirks.

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