Part of the discipline I’m trying to impose upon myself, is to read blogs with my coffee. Blog a couple of times a week, and carry on.
Apparently, it’s a work in progress.
This morning I have read different blogs with topics which were enjoyable reads.
The topic of one blog was about rude questions and comments stay-at-home-moms endure. You know …and what do you do? aren’t you bored? While doing my genealogy research, the very early US census reports referred to my kind of people as keeping house, and that was admirable until it wasn’t anymore.
The topic of another blog was about people critiquing the blogging/writing styles of others. I have had an idea in my head to blog completely unedited. Meaning no backspaces when I type an incorrect letter or word. I know that my punctuation isn’t always correct, and my sentence structure is a bit askew, but I seriously don’t care. I would love to let loose every made up word I have in my vocabulary…and let the critiques rejoice in their criticisms.
I lingered over many beautiful photos, and read some wonderful poems.
Then I read a blog about fear and Faith. 😀
I have asked my husband where that opinionated–couldn’t-care-less about other’s opinions of me–that small part of me who relaxed and didn’t worry about entertaining or worrying about spending time wastefully—go? That time waster in me, is now controlling my life.
I was the one at the edge of a river receiving safety instructions from our guide on my first whitewater rafting trip, praying…please don’t let me fall in, please don’t let me fall in. Fearful, but I did it anyway. Guess what? The first set of rapids everyone, including the guide, fell in the river except my extremely anxious friend. Whitewater rafting is by far, the most exhilarating activity I have participated in. I wouldn’t have known it if I didn’t do it in spite of my anxiety.
The one who decided to take flying lessons in a Cessna 152—the small plane equivalent of the Mini Cooper. I blame it on the cost of the lessons, but when I was instructed how to recover from a stall and a spin, that was a little more daredevilish than I wanted to be. Ha! Now I have a phobia of flying. Go figure.
The person with so much anxiety, but I did it anyway.
My motto was, I’ll try anything once, within reason.
Fear—the ball and chain I’ve acquired since the mostly carefree thinking of my early 20’s.
You gotta go!