the same old fight

Is there any sort of life out there that doesn't make you deal with the same crap over and over again? Because that sounds mighty nice. I sit back, sip my herbal tea, wish I was drinking coffee, and dream of a world where things are dealt with, resolved, and (poof!) gone.
Then I realize where most of these repetitious issues come from: me. And you just can't live without yourself, I don't care what philosophers say. I keep repeating the same behaviors, hoping for different results. And that, as we've all heard, is the definition of crazy.
I keep waiting for someone to wave that magic wand and create positive change. I keep resting on my good intentions. I keep hiding behind excuses: "that's just my personality," "it's genetic," "I can't risk it," "most of the time it's fine," "I don't know how to begin,". . . and my all-time favorite, "things aren't really bad and you're being too dramatic."
I'm not much good at trying new things. Not sure why--I've never thought of myself as a scaredy-cat. And I never, ever want to feel that I'm afraid of hard work. But maybe I am both of those things. I don't know. Compared to. . . but wait--I can't measure myself on anyone else's yardstick, remember? It's just me and the truth. And the truth stings.
I think I need to pray a very dangerous prayer: I need the status quo to be unbearable, to feel I have no choice but change. God, help me change. Make me uncomfortable. Help me slough off this pervasive, subtle laziness. Without your help, in five years I'll still be sitting at this desk in pants that are just a tad too tight, wishing I was somewhat more awesome. Again.