I came across this quote recently (on a planner sticker or page or something, of course) and it stopped me in my tracks. Right there in the planner accessories aisle at my local Michael's store. I stopped and I realized that all my life, all I'd had, were wishes.
Well, wishes and dreams, I guess.
I've raised a family, almost, worked a dozen different jobs, started four blogs, written six books...
You know that person that writes novels in their spare time between making lunches and cleaning up Legos - that's me.
But I've never done anything, really done it to fruition. And it was standing there in Michael's, staring at this quote that dropped all of this knowledge on me like a ton of bricks. I felt like this quote was telling me the reason behind my endless spinning. The reason those six novels sit dormant on my hard drive. The reason I'm four decades old (did I really say that out loud?) and I still haven't seen any of my goals beyond the starting gates.
The funny thing is, that missing piece, the plan part, is what I do most. I'm a natural born planner, organizer, and lover of all things lined up in neat little rows. So why had I never made a plan to reach any of my goals? I didn't need a planner sticker quote to tell me that one... Fear.
Well, fear and the fact that for me, making a plan starts with grabbing a laptop and spending the next eight days meticulously designing just the right color coordinated and spatially pleasing planning page on which to write my notes about that plan. And usually by the time the perfect page is done, I've already forgotten what it was for, lost in the giddiness of designing the color scheme and spacing.
But it wasn't giddiness that day as I stood there staring at the quote until the other woman in the aisle grew tired of politely waiting for my midlife crisis to be over and gently nudged me out of her way to reach the binder clips. I let her take her clips and leave then I placed that sticker or planner page or whatever it was with the soul piercing quote back on the shelf and high-tailed it out of that store. Running from the sticker-quote-fear before it could shake me down and make me feel older than I already am.
I ran, but I couldn't forget. Ok, maybe I was able to block out as to whether it was a sticker, or a cover, or a divider page that had rocked the boat of my little life. But I couldn't forget the words. They kept floating back to me like the voice over echoes in a cheesy chick movie, waking me up at night and dancing through my heart healthy bowl of almond milk and cheerios.
Is forty too young for a midlife crisis? Nah - surely not.
Are nine words written on a sticker enough to start one? Apparently so.
But what to do about it - that was the problem. If I were a man, according to movies and articles, I would buy a red car and lower the age of my wandering eye. But I'm not a man. I can't afford a new car. And my eyesight is too bad to wander.
So I'm changing things up. I started a journal that's not on hand designed color coordinated pages to attempt an actual plan for my goals. I opened an Etsy shop, because that's what I really wanted to do. And it seems I am starting another blog. Fifth time's a charm, right?
Well, maybe it will hold me accountable, anyway.
Maybe.
As for all those novels weighing down my hard drive? We'll see about that. For now I'm diving into all the planning, organizing, and neat little rows I can handle in a creative way.
And if you've actually made it this far... thank you for joining me. Leave a comment to let me know that I'm not alone in my strange little sticker-induced anxiety, or just to let me know you actually made it this far in my dribble.
I appreciate it.
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