Embarking on this new adventure of writing a blog has made think about self honesty. My reason for doing the blog was many fold- become a better communicator, do something creative, stretch myself but mostly because I’m not a good finisher.
There have been many attempts at drawing classes, guitar lessons, diets, budgets, and relationships. My sincerity at the onset was genuine but one thing or another, like frustration regarding my shortcomings, impatience about the learning curve, terror at the thought I didn’t feel like an adult always threw a wrench in the mix. How could I hide that fact in plain sight?
Surely, you jest, I hear people say. A person as responsible as you, who takes care of lots of people, has always worked, taken care of their finances, always remembered people’s birthdays, blah, blah, blah. Those things are easy, a piece of cake. The hard stuff of wearing your heart on your sleeve, being emotionally present was always a little beyond my reach. It was like wearing an uncomfortable suit of clothes, a constant thought of making the wrong move or worse, no move at all. Concrete I can do, abstract floats above me like a ballon flying free.
My hope is that I can scrape away some of the hardened patina that keeps me fully engaged. Navigating the choppy waters of self doubt and self appreciation are a daily challenge. This writing adventure, wow, it scares the hell out of me. I’m not only putting myself out there but now have involved all of you. This road has more curves than Highway 1 in California, just as many scary edges so my hands are on the wheel and my eyes are on that finish line so far down the road.
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