As I come close to revising a personal essay about Papa, it hit me that it is appropriate that I am beginning to approximate his waking time. I cannot help telling anyone that will listen how much I get done, and all that I wish to achieve this year. Yet a part of me cannot help feeling like a fraud and a blabbermouth. Doubt hangs heavy in the mornings when I struggle through my writing and review my goals. It feels as if I am kidding myself when day after day some goals remain not done or even forgotten. Yet I know there is more going on: Fear. Fear that I am a fraud, that I am boring others, that I am arrogant and egotistical for constantly sharing, Fear that I am not good enough, and that I fill space by going on and one about what I wish to do.
But then slowly certain goals get done, great feedback from my Writers Groups, becoming athlete of the month at the gym, spending connected time with my family, friends and being in service to others. All those things started with small steps, and false starts. They all began with me declaring and blabbering. So I get to get out of my head and into action, knowing that I may not get to all or most of my goals, but I will still be further along than when I started.