I’m not sure quite when it happened. Maybe when I turned 30? Or when I headed back into the working world and I had more to occupy my time and thoughts than I’d had at home for two years? Or maybe the move to Italy took the focus off of petty things.

Maybe some of it just comes with my life stage? Married 11 years and my family is complete. Who do I need to impress? We’re happy together. Let’s just enjoy our life without comparing it to another family.

Whatever the reason, somewhere in the last few years I’ve stopped caring what other people think. I’ve stopped comparing myself to the instagrams and pinterest pins and pretty pictures from photographers.

I don’t have mom guilt. (well, just a touch once in awhile) But believe me, I used to have a TON of it.

I don’t wish my house was bigger or better or more trendy. I don’t worry about how much is in my closet or if I look super cool when I go out. I don’t even obsess with my weight anymore (GASP!).

Maybe this seems like a no brainer for some of you, but for me comparision and self-doubt plauged me for way too long.

How did this change happen?
That’s what I asked myself this week, and here’s where I’ve landed…

I’m pretty sure some of it has to do with becoming more minimalistic in my thinking and behaviors. Less is more. Less is freeing. Not having as many clothes means less decisions in the mornings. Having a smaller home with fewer decorations, furniture and overall stuff means less cleaning and more pleasure from the items I do have. The negative space (or white space) in my home allows me space to breathe. Which makes my home incredibly calming to me.

Now, this isn’t to say I don’t want things.

But the wanting doesn’t seem to last as long as it used to. It doesn’t take over. It doesn’t morph into a need like it did before. It passes by without much impact.

And you know what else? The jealousy is fading. I can look at the picture perfect instagram posts and be genuinely happy for those who experience the beautiful things. I might have a moment of “Oh, wouldn’t that be lovely!” or “I’d love to do that”, but I don’t have a need or obsession to make it my life too like I used to. I’m able to genuinely root people on rather than wish it was my life.

Without trying to make other people’s lives my own, this leads to more of me and who I am in my life. Being true to myself I guess you could call it. When I’m no longer trying to do all the things everyone else shows me I should be doing, I have space to think and dream about what it is I was made to do. To do what makes me come alive.

That’s a part I’m still trying to figure out…. what the heck am I “supposed to” be doing right now?

I’ve tried some things that seem like they fit, and then let go when I realize they don’t.

Photography? Eh.
Watercolor painting? Relaxing, but not a passion.
Wedding coordinator? I’m not a leader of large groups kind of gal

Sometimes I see myself as a quitter. And maybe I am? But quitting the things that don’t fit seems like the right kind of quitting. Is that a thing? A “right kind of quitting?”

I’m just letting go like Elsa told me to do.

And while I let go of some things, I try out others. We’re giving life in another country a go. I’m testing the waters of ESL teaching and I’ve helped a few times with chuch children’s programs. Who knows what will stick, but I’m comfortable with this try it out while I search approach.

As I become more secure in who I am and who God made me to be, it’s freeing. Truly.

I’ve grown up hearing about this security and confidence in being who God made you to be. Looking to his view of yourself rather than from those around you. It sure has taken me a long time to come around to experiencing it for myself.

Now, if I could just gain some security and confidence in speaking the language of the country I live in…