I did a lot of things this summer.
I completed the second level of my Kodaly teaching certification. I grew a vegetable garden. I volunteered at a community center near my house. I went to the zoo. I planned a birthday party for my husband. I went camping. I spent time with friends. I visited the Dominican Republic. I went on a road trip with my in-laws. I went to two different family reunions. I joined a Masters swim team. I got caught up on doctor's appointments (dentist, gynecologist, eye doctor, voice therapy, etc) I went to Idaho and back in one day for a friend's wedding. I started teaching piano lessons. I completed hikes that had been on my to-do list for years. I saw Mount Rushmore. And I read a ton of books.
And yet, when I think back on my summer, my brain skips over all of this and gets stuck on the days I spent binge-watching "The Office" (I watched all 9 seasons this summer). Instead of remembering the new friends I've made in my ward, I remember the days I failed to find anyone to hike with me and instead bummed around at home by myself. Despite the obvious list of things I did with my vacation, I can't shake the feeling that none of it counted and I actually did nothing all summer.
This would normally be the part of the post where I'd reveal the grand epiphany I just had about how everything I thought before was wrong. Unfortunately, I'm writing this pre-epiphany, so here's all I've got: I don't know why it's so hard for me to recognize my own accomplishments. I don't know why I beat myself up so much about perceived wastes of time. But I do know that it's not okay and that it doesn't make me happy. And I'm working to adjust my attitude, so that when work starts this week and my summer ends, I can look back with satisfaction at how I spent my time.