Considering how cathartic I find the clickety-clack of my keyboard as I write, it’s unfortunate how seldom I make time to sit down and just type.

In my car, midday at work, watching TV with my husband…I’m constantly coming up with things to say, thoughts to share here. But when the day ends, I’m tired. I’m tired, and somehow all of those words that were running through my head are nowhere to be found. So I settle in on the couch with my phone, and am “fed” by social media, television, and occasionally a conversation with that guy I married. You’d think that for all of that relaxation I’m getting in, I would feel refreshed and invigorated with each new day, right?

Except, no, not exactly. Actually, not even remotely. For all the rest my body gets whilst parked on the sectional, I still feel it—tired, listless, drained. And I think I figured out why.
I’m kinda lazy, you guys. I’m a little lazy, and kind of a wimp. I do lots of things: I wake up, I go to the gym, and I go to my job. I drive home, and hubs and I trade off dinner and dish duty. When it comes to securing comfort, health, and safety for my physical body, one could argue that I work pretty hard. Where I fail so completely is securing comfort, health, and safety for my soul.

(For the record, I tried, and there was no way that wasn’t coming out cheesy. Sorry.)

It’s lame, but it’s true: I am too damn lazy to put effort into what will really and truly make me feel ALIVE. And so much of it comes down to things feeling HARD, or things being SCARY. It’s HARD at the end of the day to go for a run, or write a blog post, read my Bible, or call my grandma. It’s SCARY to dream huge dreams and teeter out onto the limb that holds them. It’s HARD to budget time and SCARY to think of failing at all those new things I want to try. But here’s what’s becoming abundantly and painfully clear to me:

Years from now, looking back on all of these missed opportunities for joy and fulfillment in this life will be HARDER and SCARIER. Like, by a long shot. It will also be sadder, and a little boring.

I’m so frustrated and impatient with myself for fiddling away precious hours in front of a device, wondering why I feel like I’m missing out. I feel increasingly drained and discontent with my beautiful self and this beautiful life I have but don’t deserve. But why? Because I’m comparing it to what I see on those screens, rather than getting up and diving into the things that will make me whole and healthy.

Note to self (and to you, if you find this relevant): Scrolling through everyone else’s life and dreams will do absolutely nothing to further your own. Seriously, nothing.

I’ve heard the same quote in many different arrangements, but the gist is this: We all get 24 hours. It’s what we do with them that matters. I want, NEED mine to matter more. I’m not sure exactly how that looks or how I get there. It’s definitely scary, but I’m hoping I’m brave enough to go.

Even if it’s hard.