So, we found a place to live. All along in our search, I kept thinking back to what my friend Liz said on a previous post, that maybe we just hadn't found "our" place. I really think that's it--because though we haven't seen this one in person, it seems like it'll be perfect for us. I'm so excited.
And, it's in Provo. I'm a little nervous, mostly because I don't really love BYU (sorry.) and fanatic BYU fans (sorry.). But I know good people are everywhere, I know there's a lot of fun things in and around Provo, and my sister lives 15-20 minutes one way and my brother about 25-30 minutes the other.
I'm excited to get all my stuff out, sort through it, and live more simply. Also? I'm excited to sort out my mental space. I feel like I've had this inner turmoil for a while, and part of it I know for sure is because I have anxiety. Though most of the time I'm just fine, for the last little while I've begun to realize that I wasn't really fine. Thankfully, I'm coming out of a difficult period and I feel as though things are beginning to look up; sometimes I hesitate writing about real and difficult things because it doesn't often seem like there's room for it in the world of perfect, happy, golden blogging, but that's real life and I think there's value and meaning in remembering even difficult times. Regardless, I'm doing a lot better than I was, and I'm grateful for it.
I think part of it, too, is that I'm still trying to figure out my identity as a stay-at-home mom, and a mom in general. I see certain ways I do things and want to change them. But the thing I've recently realized in the last year is this: if I don't like something, change it!
For example, I used to never pick up my dogs' poop. Yep. Never. Just didn't worry about it on walks. And now I have no idea why because the idea horrifies me, and I'm pretty sure if I were a homeowner without a dog (or even with a dog), I'd probably be preeeeettttttty put out that a dog pooped on my lawn. So one day, I got depressed about it. I thought, oh man, I'm a terrible person who doesn't pick up their dogs' poop and I don't smile and say good morning to people on my jogs and I don't do this etc. etc. etc. BUT THEN. Then, one day, I thought, why not? Why can't I do those things?
So, every jog, I started bringing bags to pick up my dog's poop. And I passed some people on the sidewalk, and though it's kind of outside my comfort zone, I smiled and said good morning. And! It felt awkward--not picking up the poop... Ok, ok, that's awkward, but it's a must-do thing--but smiling and saying hello felt really super good.
I guess what I'm trying to say is this:
Hi. I'm Ashley, almost 27 years old, and I'm still working on becoming better, doing better, and figuring myself out. Also, I'm moving really soon and I'd like to make some friends. So if you know anyone who would be a good friend, I'm accepting applications as of now. (Ha!)
Lastly, my girls turned one on Saturday, and maybe sometime I'll write about that a bit more. It's bittersweet because I can't believe they're not tiny newborns anymore, but they're just so fun, sweet and tender little girls. I love them so, so much. They look just like their daddy... so I guess it's a good thing I love him, too.
It's a good life.