Most of us would scoff at the notion of needing any help. We take great pride in our fearlessness and ability to multi-task away our to-do list. I am guilty of super hero syndrome myself, but the truth is I could do with a live in Martha Stewart and Jillian Michaels. And I’m not above the need for the occasional check in with Dr. Phil.
I am capable for juggling chain saws like the next woman and most days I do just fine thank you very much. But there are the odd moments, more frequent than I’d admit to even Phil, where I am dangerously close to the edge. Not the going postal sort of edge, but the kind where I find myself hanging onto the fringe of the great abyss thinking there has to be an easier or more efficient way to get it all done. Done? For this woman, this isn’t an easily achievable state. Not to mention I don’t even understand what that means or how I will know when I arrive at the miraculous state of finished. Seriously, I don’t have a clue.
There is everything I am consciously working on—worthy of a to-list—and where I expend great efforts and typically have something to share at Show and Tell, when it’s been crossed off the all done list. But then there is all the other stuff hovering at the edge of my awareness I purposely ignore. The informal things, fleeting musings, the not quite completed sentences, the fears, the considerations, the expectations, and all the questions and thoughts never far from the edge of my reasonable reason that surface when my mind is distracted, like when I am folding clothes or scavenging for a rogue set of keys.
Where did I leave the car keys? Those damn things never stay put.
How much is enough? Enough of what?
Where do I start?
Why did I wait? You hadn’t thought of starting yet.
Is there enough time?
What if? Why not?
After this, before that, when I finish or reach the end, then I can….
Milk, butter, wine, laundry detergent…
Look into my eyes – you will see/What you mean to me/Search your heart – search your soul/ Everything I do. Love. Love. LOVE IT! Magic Bryan Adams.
I’m not a perfect Mom. ARGH! You are doing the best possible job you can. Am I?
This heart of mine carries the joy and burden of a love it does not understand. You and every other person walking the earth drag the same worry around with them wherever they go.
Should or shouldn’t I? Stay put, doing nothing is safe and predictable, free of disappointment and heartache. If I remain frozen in this place will I regret the chance not taken more than the heartache I might have to endure if I had taken the chance and failed? Magic eight ball, what should I do?
BELIEVE! Believe in what exactly?
…In what lies before you, what you labor on and for, what mystifies and enchants that part of you responsible for creativity. Believe in the moment you risk everything. That’s what you put your faith in.
Ah, my keys, right where I left them.
While I doubt a white jacket with straps that tie at the back is needed, I sometimes question the weighty, semi-baked musings taking up space in my head. I’ve never taken the time to write down what I ponder but I can’t help wonder why this is. There are nuggets worthy of exploration inside the thoughts of a woman who sometimes has bouts of superhero syndrome.
Maybe the act of scribing my secret thoughts would force me to answer those nagging questions and to finally accept what I refuse to admit, which is my humanness. I can’t be all that different from others. Right? You hope you’re not. OK, so maybe I harbor a wee bit of worry and pinch of doubt. Who doesn’t?
There are things to be learned frolicking so close to the edge of the abyss. Besides, if I permit myself the time to release the clutter in my head on a blank page when the need is great, it might make for an interesting journey to the fire burning inside of my inner vixen. Yeah, you might learn how to make Beef Wellington and find the extra time in your day to get it all done. Whatever that means…
Yeah, keeping a diary might not be such a bad idea.