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At the end of the day, it's apparent I didn't really accomplish a whole heapin' lot, or much at all.  I do what needs to be done and maybe that's enough but, maybe I could do so much more. 

I've decided that many women run faster through their day than I do.  "I [tend to] have two speeds and if you don't like this one, [it's a guarantee] you won't like the other one." 

At least that's what I've believed ever since I was given a plaque with that quote on it as a gift.

And the quote may be true.  I do take things at my own pace.  A slow April-kind-of pace.  But even at my slow pace there is still time in the day when I could have done something more than what I've managed to do.

I look back on my day and wonder why I don't do more of the things I'd like to do and it all boils down to fear.  I'm afraid I won't be able to finish what I start so I start nothin'.   I'm afraid what I finish won't be good enough or worth the time and money I put into it so I put no time into it and spend no money on it.  I'm afraid it will get ruined once I start so I never take the chance with anything and kids.  I'm afraid someone else could have done it better or cheaper or more efficient so why try.  I'm afraid I can't do "big" things if I haven't finished the day-to-day things so until I get the dishes and the laundry and the meals and the shopping and the cleaning and the feeding and the bills and all my unsung obligations done, I probably shouldn't start something new.  Which really tends to be quite debilitating when I think of all the things I'd like to do or try.

To begin with, we bought some old school chairs and a desk.  They need to be stripped and sanded and repainted and I'm waiting for Dru to do it because he does everything well and fast and better.  But while I wait I'm thinkin' I could probably do it - it couldn't be that hard.  But they're still sittin' and waitin' 'cuz I'm afraid. 

Then there is the ever accumulation of photo album and scrap book stuff.  It needs sifting and sorting and to be spread out from here to there so I can see, and choose, and place it in its right spot and I'm waiting for endless days when I'll never be distracted or have to pull away, and when nobody will touch the piles.  Ever.  And so the whole mass just keeps building and building.  Proof's in the pudding - I'm a living bundle of fear.

My quilt.  Someday I'll make one.  Heaven knows I've been savin' up material to make one.  And why haven't I?  'Cuz I'm fully aware that it's a big project that I'll start and not finish 'cuz my track record of finishing things is crap.  So then I'll end up with a quilt project that may have time put into it but no huge reward out of it so that equals wasted time.

And I can go on.  I am self defeating.

But a small success on my part will be this blog.  Because everyday I write for it, is another day I've done something I want to do with all the fears attached.  And I'm still doing it.  Day after day. 

Maybe tomorrow I'll start those chairs. . .