Picked up a random poetry book From the crowded shelf. Quick easy hour read: Delight and wonder. Then, Found…
Determined
Do you have a problem with getting things done? If you are like me, even if you don’t also suffer from ADHD and anxiety and depression, completing things you want to do is a struggle.
I drive home from work each day with every intention of putting away the clean laundry pile, or making dinner so my husband doesn’t have to when he gets home. Most days I see something alongside the road that triggers an idea for a blog or a short story. Excitement builds as I connect words in my mind to the picture I see. Then I arrive home, leave my purse on the kitchen chair and instant fatigue strikes me like a gust of wind. Succumbing to it, I sit on the couch “for just a little while” I tell myself. I start looking at my social media accounts, turn on the television; I snuggle up under a blanket and find a comfortable position to stretch my aching calves. Before I know it, I have fallen asleep, or I have just sat for a mindless hour of inactivity. I hear the door open and my husband’s footsteps. He starts making dinner, filling the house with savory aromas of rosemary baked chicken or turkey noodle soup. My stomach growls, but my heart feels a pang of guilt.
Yesterday, I attended a women’s luncheon with my mom and my daughters. Afterwards, I took care of cleaning up the dishes in the church kitchen. One of the other ladies came and helped by drying and putting away the clean items. She told me she had just ordered my book and is very excited to start reading it. When I hear this from people, I am always taken aback. A flutter of excitement strikes my soul, a sudden blush warms my cheeks. I want this attention from my writing. She tells me how interested she is in reading about my personal faith journey, and I am suddenly a little girl of six again, a flower girl in my Sunday School teacher’s wedding wearing a pink satin dress, embarrassed but glad at the attention someone pays me. I continue with the dishes as our conversation turns to the lady’s own family story, in particular her sister and brother-in-law and their popcorn business. Deep inside I am that little girl twirling around the building, loving the swooshing sound of my dress as it catches air, and beaming in delightful contentment.
Today, I turned on the computer after I returned from lunch with my family. My girls have gone to a movie with their grandparents, and my husband has gone off to the grocery store. I want to continue on this blog that I have started and rewritten at least five times in the last month. Before I know it, I am looking at emails and checking Facebook. My eyes start aching from the small print on the screen and my head throbs. I feel the therapeutic sunshine through the window, close the laptop, and turn on my audio book instead. I am comfortably content to listen and enjoy my solitary time. I do not write.
My husband takes me to dinner to a Middle Eastern restaurant we had not tried before and before I know it the soft hummus with naan bread, earthy dolma, and creamy seasoned chickpea inside the falafel fills my belly. Our conversation settles on work, our future vacation, and goals we each have for ourselves. I watch another couple as they visit with family. The man points to his girlfriend as though she has food on her shirt. She looks down, confused, not seeing anything, and the man takes her hand and kisses her. My heart leaps. I smile at my husband just as he is smiling at what I presume to be the screeching noises from the children behind us.
Driving home, we discuss our plans for the evening. He challenges me to write a blog in three minutes. I scoff at what he thinks I am capable of in my writing. I have never written a blog that fast. As it is I have been sitting here for at least thirty minutes. I have definitely taken more time than he thought I would need, and yet, I have actually written a blog I am proud to post.
What I have learned from this is that I can be my own worst enemy when it comes to me actually getting things I want to do done, but when I am challenged and praised by others, I am more apt to finish something. Still, I wonder, can I challenge myself to finish things? Can I challenge myself to challenge myself, or is that too much to ask?
Check out my novel, Married to an Atheist A Love Story from Idaho, on amazon.com.