Tuesday, February 10, 2015
I have always had a deep passion for how our brains work and why we do what we do.
That's why I decided to become an accountant!
Not really. I started school for Psychology and/or Social Work at which point I found myself married and needing to quickly help support a child. I enjoy problem solving and can Math well enough so I jumped over to accounting because they get paid in money, unlike social workers. Plus, I already had one child I could not afford and if I had stayed in social work I risked bringing every child I worked with home with me because HOW DO YOU NOT?
I have been very blessed in the opportunities that have been thrown my way in my career. I have a great job and it allowed me to scrape by after my divorce. I truly love where and with whom I work. I enjoy being an accountant and it keeps my mind very busy.
Even with all that, I have the constant feeling that I should be writing. I have tried repeatedly to start books. I get just so far and then lose the thread of the story. Mostly that is because I realize that someone might actually read it one day and THEY'RE ALL GOING TO LAUGH AT ME. I read all the inspirational things. All the things that say I just need to jump in there and do it. I have this horrible disease though called chronic humanity. My brain, like others with this disease, likes to tell me things. It doesn't even care if they are true or not.
I have been watching a lot of friends and loved ones diving in and doing the hard things. I have been filling up lately on all the inspirational stuff I can. I am in the middle of so many self help books that could probably write my own. I keep putting it off. How am I supposed to write when I don't know what to even write about? How am I supposed to write about something when I am so broken myself? I keep researching to figure out how to get myself past all these symptoms of my humanity that are holding me back. It's rather interesting stuff. But what can I write about?! Oh, wait.
So here I am. I'm diving. There is a good chance that I put my mask and tank on wrong and I will end up in the emotional hospital. I plan to write about all the stuff that makes us human. The things that affect me (anxiety, depression, perfectionism, impatience, crying during commercials about babies and puppies). The things that affect you (you know you get a little verklemped during those commercials too, don't lie). All of our imperfections and our perfections. Really, whatever comes to mind because well, it means I'm writing and maybe my brain will stop nagging me about it.
Thanks for reading,