On starting things

Do you feel like it is an impossible upwards battle to complete things? I feel like that sometimes. I am always so excited to start new projects. The preparatory steps leading to it beyond thrilling to me. There is a delight in the hyper focused obsessiveness that consumes me. Days go by, months even, and this new project is all I can think of. When I say it consumes me, I really mean it. Sometimes I go months reading and preparing for the hobby.

By the time I actually start, I have become performatively competent. I feel like I know things. But it is a lie. Because I have yet to even do it. But because I think I know more than I do. I expect more than I can do at the time. When the rubber meets the ground, I fall flat. Oh, the shame that this brings. It makes me not want to do it anymore. Not the good kind of shame either, the bad kind. The kind you hide from your friends.

Oh they must notice. How could they not?

I wish this was a once off, but it is not. Lately I have been allowing myself the opportunity to just dream. There is no need to -do everything-. Maybe just writing about it good enough?

For example, a few nights ago I found out about how easy (but not really) felting was. And how breath-taking the results could be. Before I knew it, I was deep into the rabbit hole. I knew what kind of felt projects I would like to do. I had bookmarked over a dozen things on it. Threw some books in my library hold list and added some in my thrift-books cart. I knew what kind of tools I would buy to get started. It was all ready to go.

But this time I did something different. I deleted it all.

It felt weird. A resounding acknowledgement of my finnitude. I can't do it all - and that is ok. No, it is more than OK- it is fantastic. Because it embiggens everything else I do with value. Each and every choice becomes grander.

Still feels a little shameful, though. That needs to be unlearned.