Tuesday, April 16, 2013
I have crowned myself the queen of “crossing bridges before they are even built.”
I posses the talent to create and worry about things that haven’t happened, or that are very unlikely to happen.
I can map out what I will do “if” something happens and how I will handle things “when” it happens.
What if I completely fail as a writer? What will I do when I run out of things of to say? What if no one wants to read anything I write? I worry and wonder how I will fix those problems, which haven’t happened. And the little voice in my head likes to chime in and say “yet.”
How will I handle it when my boys are bigger than me? Or when my girls want to date? That’s a bridge I’d rather build and immediately burn. But, I really don’t know what I’ll do. How do I know for sure I am not making some major parental mistakes that will forever ruin my children from being productive people?
Will Eric in 20 years look back and think I failed him as a wife? I mean, I will then have to get even somehow, but I’d really hate that for him.
“What will happen?” is a haunting question that really has no answer. I often allow it to take over my thoughts. The what, where, how, and why of everything can really overwhelm my brain. And I cannot do anything about any of it and that is maybe what really drives me bonkers. If worrying could fix anything or crossing pretend bridges change things, let me just say I’d be living in a super duper perfect world.
A place where the kid’s faces were clean at home and when we left the house. Socks would always have their match. I would know the right things to say to my kids all the time. Eric would finally know the depth of my perfection. And I would never fail as a wife, mother and writer.
But, as with all things in life, you trade one for the other. If I lived in my super duper perfect world and I never crossed bridges that haven’t even been built yet, I would miss so many amazing experiences.
If I was already a perfect writer I wouldn’t have to try. I wouldn’t reach and I wouldn’t grow. If I knew what to expect with the kids, I’d miss laughing at their spontaneous questions or silly behaviors. And, if Eric already knew how amazing I was all the time, I’d stop coming up with new ways to amaze him.
So, I suppose the real fun should lie in not knowing what will happen next.
And, I must make the choice not to build and cross bridges that do not need to be built.