All those good intentions I have? Screw ’em.

The still packed boxes from my move two and a half months ago? Forget about them.

The laundry that needs to be washed? The dishes that need to be put away? The groceries that need to be purchased? Nope, nope, and nope. I don’t want to deal with it. Any of it.

I also don’t want to deal with the fact that I’ve been doing a crappy job of caring for my physical well-being. There, I said it, but I’m just not in the mood to deal with it. Stupid, I know. But true.

My mental well-being, on the other hand, has been pretty good, thanks in large part to the fact that I’m just finishing a week off of work, part of which I spent with my son exploring our beautiful state. Still, there is a little too much chaos around me in my home for me to really feel settled. I don’t like having lots of stuff around, which is ironic, because I have lots of stuff.

Here’s what I SHOULD do.

1. Wash and put away all laundry.

2. Empty the dishwasher.

3. Fill at least two boxes with donations (clothes that don’t get worn, those curtains I’m never going to hang from two houses ago, that set of knives I’ve never opened, those ugly picture frames I’ve somehow accumulated, they all need to go).

4. Get that additional storage cube thingie and build it so I can fit my stuff into my studio appropriately.

5. Unpack the last few boxes.

6. Take the dog for a nice long walk.

7. Work on revising my manuscript.

I know that if I did those things I would feel more settled and accomplished, and less at odds with my environment. I have no desire to do any of it, though. Here’s what I really feel like doing instead.

1. Spending the day in my pajamas.

2. Playing Candy Crush and Pet Rescue Saga.

3. Reading ( This week I read Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children by Ransom Riggs and Butter by Erin Jade Lange. Now I’m reading Thirteen Reasons Why by Jay Asher. Yes, they are all Young Adult novels. I don’t care.).

4. Creating a menu of delicious meals that a) someone else should cook, and b) are sinfully unhealthful.

5. Baking (and then eating) something extraordinarily decadent.

6. Pinning all sorts of cool stuff on Pinterest.

7. Sewing with some of the great new fabric I added to my stash during my road trip.

8. Hanging out with my sweetheart, maybe catching a movie on tv (pajamas, remember?).

9. Loving on my doggy.

10. Stalking all my facebook friends. Nah, not really. I comment on their stuff a lot.

The reality of the situation is that I’ll more than likely do things from both lists. After all, it is the last day of my vacation, so I want to enjoy it, but stuff needs to get done, so I might as well suck it up and do it. I still have all day stretched in front of me, so why not?

TODAY’S QUESTION:

WHAT’S THE BIGGEST OBSTACLE KEEPING YOU FROM LIVING YOUR PASSION?

I think of obstacles as hurdles. They’re in your way, but they’re not insurmountable. In fact, you really don’t even have to go over them in all cases. Sometimes you can simply knock them down or go around them. Now brick walls are a different story. Those need to be scaled or demolished, which is a similar concept, but on a much grander scale.

Fortunately for me, I don’t have any brick walls in my way. To me, the brick walls in life are things like substance abuse issues, lack of a basic education, mental or physical illness, poverty, fear from living in an abusive situation, and loneliness. Some of those may be overcome with tools, support, and determination, but others may not. I’m thankful that none of those situations apply to my life at this time. If I’m fortunate, they never will.

The type of obstacles I face are largely the self-imposed ones. A quick run-down includes:

1. indecision

2. being uninformed

3. inertia

4. fear of change

Let’s examine these one at a time. Indecision is probably the biggest issue for me. I’m indecisive about what living my passion means or looks like. I’m not sure how to achieve a goal that I have yet to firmly define. I am passionate about writing, and would love to take my writing beyond my beloved blog, but I’m not certain in what direction I wish to go. I don’t have a Harry Potter or a Fifty Shades of Grey series in me, this I know. I have to figure out exactly what it is that I DO have in me.

The second issue is that I’m uninformed about how exactly this whole writing/publishing thing works. This is entirely my own fault. I know authors, I’m part of writing groups, and I have resources. I need to spend more time learning and less time making excuses, which brings me to the next point, inertia.

It is far easier to do what you already know than to change things up. I’ve lived this too many times to count. I’ve spent years in jobs that took life out of me, and I’ve given far too much of myself to relationships that gave me little in return. Why? Inertia. Change is difficult. It’s physics, really. Newton’s law. A body at rest will stay at rest unless acted upon by an outside force. Something like that. I can’t spend the rest of my life waiting for outside forces to intervene, though. If it’s to be, I have to make it happen, whatever “IT” happens to ends up being.

It’s all well and good to put out the rallying cry, but in the end I think the main reason for emotional inertia, Newton aside, is fear. After all, I’m only human. I know what I know and I know how to navigate the life I currently lead. I’m happy. I enjoy my work and my students and colleagues. I feel happy and productive and content that I’m making a contribution to the greater good. I’m generally satisfied with the compensation I receive for that work. Overall, things are pretty good. So why mess with a good thing?

I’m not afraid of failure. I’m not jumping off a cliff. Failure in a writing or publishing endeavor won’t leave me crumpled on a canyon floor. It won’t take food off my family’s table or turn us out into the street. It’s not failure that concerns me, it’s, dare I say it, success. What would that look like? What would that feel like? Would I leave my current situation? Would I be a pretender? Would I fool the general public, or at least a tiny slice of it, into believing whatever it is I’m selling? Because as an author, you really are selling. You’re selling your story and your point of view and your voice. Am I up to that task? I just don’t know yet. And I’m just not sure how I ought to proceed. Damn, there’s that indecision again.