Confessions Of A Serial Non-Finisher

Let's just get right to it: I leave many, many things unfinished.

I'm already slightly mortified about what I'm going to tell you, but here we go.

Herewith, a partial (but well-rounded) list:

  • B-School.  This is the on-line marketing school run by the fabulous Marie Forleo.  Once you've purchased it, you can participate every year at no additional cost.  I've worked my way through most of the first and second modules of this six module program TWICE.  Twice I've started and lost steam.  Twice I've had a crisis of confidence about either myself or my product or my process.  Twice.  
  • The Desire Map, Danielle LaPorte's latest bit of badassery.  I've listened to the book on audio more than twice all the way through, but didn't make it all the way through the actual book.  More to the point, I didn't complete the Desire Map workbook, which is the whole point of the thing.  In it, you figure out how you want to feel - your Core Desired Feelings - so that you can plan your days around those feelings.  The idea is that if you line your actions up with how you want to feel - instead of doing the thing you think you want to do and hoping you feel the right way at the end - you'll have more of what you want more often than not.  I think The Desire Map is wildly amazing.  And yet halfway through the workbook, crickets.
  • Lara Casey's Power Sheets Set.  These babies are gorgeous, highly-stylized sheets intended to slip right into a three-ring-binder.  There are prompts, spaces to fill in, and each page is flecked somewhere with gold.  Holding them made me feel like everything was possible.  I bought them last year, and then filled out not one line of anything anywhere.  The year passed, and they sat in a pile until the other day, when I went ahead and stuck them in a binder for future inspiration.  Oy.
  • The Create Your Amazing Year Workbook And Calendar by the sweet-as-pie and wonderfully potty-mouthed Leonie Dawson.  Purchased, printed, and lovingly organized into a fresh, mint-green binder.  Now being used by my children for various art projects.
  • A Course In Miracles.  I adore what I've read of this book.  Which is approximately 15 pages.  I'm halfway through Eckhart Tolle's A New Earth.  I've just recently started Arianna Huffington's new book, Thrive.  Do I want to know all of the things inside of these books?  Yes.  Yes I do.  I even carry some of them around in my bag, just in case I have a spare moment to read.  Do I pull them out and read them?  Mostly, no.  Are my shoulders sore from carrying books around all the time?  Possibly.
  • I've committed to exercise and broken up with exercise more times than I care to count.  But trust me when I say that it's a lot of times.  I feel better when I work out, I look better when I work out, and my brain clears when I work out.  And yet I stop working out.

You get the idea.  

Now is probably a good place to state that I don't think I'm an asshole because I haven't finished or committed fully to these things.  I really don't.  This isn't a post about me being the lamest, loseriest gal on the block.

But today, I got really interested in the why of all of this.  

I'm looking for inspiration and knowledge in all the right places.  But as soon as I have to commit to the work of implementation, I hightail it for the closest Netflix account.

This morning, I was awake in bed at 1:00 a.m..  I couldn't shut my brain down.  I was thinking about all of this, and also about my tendency to be, according to those around me, quite hard on myself.  I reminded myself that it was a ridiculous time to be awake, which probably also meant that it was a ridiculous time to be formulating theories about myself, my work, or my progress as a human.  

But the longer I lay there, the more this simple truth shone clear and bright: I am the only one in my way.

Fucking obviously, right?

But still, how completely inescapable is that?  Books are unread because I chose to stop reading them.  Worksheets are blank because I never picked up my pen.  I'm not as strong as I'd like to be because I don't like being out of breath.

And underneath these simplified explanations is the loudest thing I've ever heard: I'm terrified of real success.

Because mediocrity is what I've always known of myself.  Because I'm well-liked-enough right now, like this.  Because what will people think if I really start to change?  Is real, lasting change even possible?  

Too scary.  Shut the book.  Don't go there.

The obvious answer is that of course real change is possible - everything I'm about is based on that notion.  Lasting change can come in the form of reading the right book or taking the right walk in the right light.  It can come if I work my body and it can come if I take a needed nap.

Most reliably, it comes when I shut the fuck up and simply exist.  

And this change?  It really looks a whole lot more like simply becoming

But I can't fully become if I keep ignoring the calling cards of my potential.  If I simply stop when I reach the edge of where I'm comfortable.  If I just hope and hope.

It can't and it won't.

And what kind of street cred can I really expect to have if I don't walk the walk?

At 2:02 this morning, in the middle of my toss 'n turn, Danielle LaPorte's daily Truthbomb landed in my inbox.

Soon after that, sleep.

To completion,
*E