When was your last, "WTF was I thinking," moment?
What did it pertain to? Something at work? At home? A small, personal decision? A huge, potentially life-altering choice?
You probably made your decision with the best of intentions. It's not like the majority of us walk around, wondering how we can drive ourselves nuts for days or weeks on end. But maybe you weren't fully aware of how difficult the road to your goal would be. And the deeper into attaining your goal you get, the more you sometimes want to give it up.
Who knew it would take so much time? Work? Energy?
Probably not you.
Birds aren't born knowing how to fly.
For some species of bird, the process of learning how to take wing can go on for weeks.
Take eagles for instance. They nest in the highest tree in their territory. Or maybe their nest is built on a cliff or atop a bunch of rocks. The point of course being that, that nest is friggin' high. And it's more than a little scary to look down. Especially if you're some puny eaglet with no flight experience. Or at least, you'd think it'd be terrifying.
But here's the thing: that puny eaglet has NO IDEA that there is ANY OTHER (read: SAFER) place to be holed up, packing on the pounds as well as the feathers.
Let’s discuss writer’s block. I find that the opinions on this vary quite a bit. There are those who say that writer’s block is not a real thing – that muses are folly. Personally, I’m of the belief that writers block is a real thing.
“Pish posh!” You might say. Or perhaps, you screamed out a resounding “yes!” in your head upon reading those words. Either way, you’ve made it this far. You may as well keep reading.
I’ve spent countless hours, sitting in from of a notebook or a computer, writing, crossing out, rewriting, standing, stretching, walking around, cursing the heavens, sitting back down and having my mind still be totally and completely void of words. Or perhaps the words are there in a jumbled lot and they kind of trip and stutter their way out onto a page and then – no. Delete. Delete. Delete.
When I typed 1620 into Google, I was thinking in terms of the year. I had pictured corsets made of whale bone and gentlemen throwing their waist coats over a puddle for their lady friend to walk over. Romance. Chivalry. Historical. I can write about that. Here’s what I got.
Alone. Scared. Terrified, really. Adrenaline was pumping through my veins, my legs shaking despite the fact that I was sitting down.
My body may have been preparing for fight or flight, but my brain wasn’t having it. “You can’t win,” I told myself over and over. “You can’t do this.”
I wasn’t staring down the barrel of a gun, nor was I looking to square off with someone who wanted to kick my ass. I was simply...traveling. Alone. For the first time.