Me, Myself and I (Barriers)

Writing out in the deep end where my toes no longer feel the gritty sand on the bottom. The very tips of them occasionally catching a tenuous grasp before the waves of life come crashing over my head. At times riding the waves high in the thrill of just writing. Other moments allowing the waves to suck me under the surf... to wallow down with the dark things...the Not Good Enoughs.

I could blame the dog, who is small and inclined to chew everything from my favorite pair of sandals to laptop power cords. The dog, who needs to be taken out every half hour, only to return back inside and use my hardwood floor as a toilet. The dog, who reminds me of the toddler phase and why I'm done having babies.

Or maybe the munchkins, there are four. That's a good enough excuse, right? The munchkins with Science Fair projects times two, one of which involves the growth of mold in baby food jars on my bathroom counter. The Ethiopia project which required paper mache mask making and Ethiopian hut making out of pine straw with the help of a glue gun. After which my fingertips looked like someone had held them to a hot stove.

There is the housework. The laundry pile that never seems to get smaller. The sink that magically refills with dishes. The dentist. The doctor. The butcher. The baker. The birthday cake maker. Ok, I'm exaggerating just a bit, but you get the point.

But the truth is, it's really none of these. But rather me. My own barrier to my own success. To often frustrated, pulling back from it. Half heartedly writing, pursuing markets, working on editing the book (which really might kill me). So scared to fail, more scared to succeed.

But somehow despite myself, I can't stay away. I have to climb back up the cliff, sometimes slowly, sometimes sprinting to the very tip top. Plunging back in, feet first, right into the deep end. Where it's quite possible I might drown but it's also very likely I'll float right to the top.