Ripping off the Band-aid

When in comes to doing something we are afraid or anxious about there are several phases that come to mind. Many involve some sporadic movement of the body, ie. leap, jump, dive in. You could Nike the situation or my personal favorite, rip off the band-aid.

I suffer from self-inflicted indecision. In my suffering, I bring many others down with me.  If you have ever seen the new sitcom, “The Good Place”, you know that one of the main characters also suffers from the mind crushing, gut wrenching, time and energy drain that is being indecisive. So much so, that he ends up in “the Bad place”, punishment for the pain and suffering his failure to decide has caused so many who have crossed his path. It is even said that his temporary paralysis, while playing out potential, but not likely, scenarios that would result from each choice option put before him, was the ultimate cause of his demise. Smashed by a falling air conditioner, on the sidewalk because he just couldn’t decide which way to walk. Yikes.

At times my lack of decision power feels like I am trying to run uphill, underwater while carrying all of my children on my back at the same time. I would like to say that the hesitation lies in weighting out the pro/cons as they would affect those most near and dear to me. Or even that the fear of missing out, FOMO, as pathetic as that would be, is the culprit. Sadly, it is even more self-absorbed and most definitely related to comparison, the less than mentality and fear of failure.

This is not a new concept. This topic isn’t fresh and I realize you have probably seen a million blogs about any/all the things just highlighted above. To me this is a very different post because it is forcing me to make my decision public. In turn, holding me accountable when this electric buzz of excitement wears off and the crippling fear wraps its bony fingers tightly around my throat. I have decided to do something that others have been decided for years that I should do. Let me be clear, however, that this is not the reason for the leap.

I am tired. The real desire to dive into this project is coming from a place of exhaustion. All the underwater, uphill climbing, worrying about the state of those heavy souls on my back has worn me out. Contemplating actions, over and over, holding too tightly to decisions, for the fear of unknown consequences, has me feeling like a ghost floating over my own life.

For almost a solid week I have woken up early enough to meet the barista at Starbucks as she opens the door at 5:30am. Yes, almost a week, but this is a huge thing for my “night owl by nature” mentality.  I have seen several other early birds, daily, enjoying their rituals.  A little clan who reads the paper together, a group of runners caffinating before hitting the trail, a sweet lady who knits by the window. Today one of them greeted me with a silent nod, respect for my new daily committment. Another mentioned noticing I had been the first one here all week and asked me what I was working on. I blurred out,  “I’m writing a book.” Then I instantly broke out in a sweat and wanted to crawl under the table.

My book will not be perfect. It will not be my best book, as I plan to continue writing long after this project and to improve my craft with time and practice. It will be real and honest. A labor of love that I have decided to start and finish, with the intent of sharing a little slice of life with the world. To avoid the comfort of falling into the welcoming arms of indecision, I am writing this book with a looming deadline approaching.

The heaviness of maybe, someday, one day, has lifted and I just felt compelled to share.

Happy Sunday, my people. Stay tuned!


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