I’ve been sleeping in lately. It isn’t really that late since my two munchkins wake up between 8 and 8:30 every day, but I’ve been just holding on to every moment I can get in my comfy, cozy, safe-from-the-world bed. I’m not wanting to pull myself together, work harder, get organized, make progress. I’m wanting to retreat, to hide, to pull the covers over my head and wait for everything to go away.
Also, I’m staying up too late and I’m pregnant. So I’m tired. But it’s more than that. It’s lack of motivation, or something. Fear of failure? I think that’s it. I am motivated, somewhat. I still see things I want to accomplish, and I see the benefit of accomplishing them. But I usually set my sights so high that I’m bound to fail at some portion of what I want to achieve, then I get discouraged, then I let it all kind of melt down, then I have to start all over. I’m just not wanting to jump into that process again.
What I do want is real progress, small but significant, and most of all, sustained. I would rather (I think) make a little bit of progress that I can hold on to. I’m just addicted to big, tangible results. Small seems so, oh, unimportant.
I’m working on it. I’m trying to keep myself from making big, detailed plans. Those are the ones that inevitably leave me with failure as the aftertaste. I know it’s good to shoot for the moon, etc., but sometimes it’s more important to set goals that are measurable and reachable than to land in outer space.
Hm.