Friday, February 28, 2014

Little White Lies

As I mentioned Tuesday, we went to the Supercross last weekend and it got me thinking about my childhood. We spend quite a few February Saturdays at the Supercross and even more Saturday and Sundays the rest of the year watching my little brother race. And seeing as both my dad and brother race, it was bound to rub on off me. Right?!

Sort of.

I did get the itch for a motorcycle. I wanted one reallllll bad and begged and begged. Finally one year for Christmas, there was a motorcycle under the tree for me, too. Yes, Andrew got one, too, that year. Poor Santa having to drag TWO motorcycles down the chimney.

Guess how many times I rode that baby? Once. 

I was in the middle of my intense cheerleading days (at one point I was on FIVE squads so intense is definitely the right word) and couldn't find the time to learn to ride it. Finally, I had a week with no Saturday competition so Dad decided that was the day to teach me to ride. And seeing as it comes so naturally to the males in my family, you'd think I'd jump right on it and zoom away.

Nope. 

I pulled the throttle (or turned or twisted or whatever it's called) and immediately stuck my feet straight out and tried to stop myself... without actually letting go of the throttle. Needless to say, my family thought it was hysterical. I made it up and down our driveway once or twice and that was it. Done. Over it. Don't care.

So the point of this story?

Whenever it came up that Andrew rode dirtbikes and how great he was, I always tried to bring up that I "had one too, but I was too busy to really get into the racing part". Yes, that was true - I was really busy with cheerleading and I legitimately did not have time to get into racing. But, I completely made it sound like I rode for fun and would get out there and ride with the boys. False. They would run me over in a heartbeat.

Was this little white lie hurting anybody? No. But what was the point of even saying it? We all do it - slightly embellish the truth to make the story sound better. To make ourselves look better. But, why? Why can't we all just be satisfied with who we are, what we've accomplished, what we're working towards and everything else that makes us us. 

But I'm working on it. One of my goals for for this year was to be me:

A person I hope to be more like: Me. I want to be more secure in myself. I want to do what I want to do. And not in a selfish way where I'm being whiny and demanding, but in a way where being me, helps everyone else. I've always wanted to be some kind of volunteer, so this year I'll do it. I've always wanted to cook a lot, so this year I'll do it. I've always wanted to be more organized, so this year I'll do it. You get the point. I want to go after my goals and grow and learn and become the best version of myself I've ever been. 

So the whole point of this post was remind myself to keep being me. To stop letting other people bring me down. To keep pushing forward and accomplish my goals. So no more little white lies. No more embellishing stories. Just me, all me all the time.

Also, this post kindaaaa makes it sound like I'm just running around lying to everyone all the time. That's not the case. It's more so that I just want to make sure I'm being fully true to myself and I want to be really content with everything going on in my life. I don't want to feel like my life isn't "cool enough".

And that got a little deep for a Friday... Happy Friday, friends!

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