Some mornings I wake up with this horrible sense of dread and failure. Before my feet even hit the ground I realize I have failed. And this is the saddest thing because it is completely impossible to fail before trying.
Unless the thing you are failing at is the thing that you should never be striving for anyway. Because it is impossible.
Aiming for perfection.
The kind of perfection that is a part of an overactive imagination with standards set higher than humanly possible, and based primarily off of the assumed successes of others.
I fail at that many a morning.
Before I even get out of bed.
And this is why I often wake with dread and stay up way too late each night.
Fear of facing the next day.
Because the next day is impossible.
As is the day after that.
But what if...
What if I let it all go?
What if I decided that at the very best...
my house will look lived in.
the gym will happen less often than it should.
the dinner will be unbelievably simple on more than one occasion.
and I might blog once. maybe.
But I will...
spend time with the children.
watch TV with the husband.
finish the homework.
call the grandparents.
quilt with the sister.
and enjoy a good book.
It's worth a try.
Because surely life is worth more than a false sense of perfection,
from an overactive imagination,
based on the assumed successes of others,
who might also dread the day.
Just a thought.