Best of Intentions

I have so many ideas and I want to do so many things with my days, my weeks...my life, really.  But I don't end up doing much.  At least, I feel like I don't do much.  I want to get my spare room in order and get my books up on the shelves.  I want to take some computer classes.  I want to research interesting topics and write papers.  I want to get back into shape and be able to fit my clothes better.  I want to spend more time in Bible study and prayer.  I want to be able to finish that book that I've been sporadically reading for the past two years.  I want to be able to read non-fiction as much as I read fiction.  I really want to wash and vacuum my car.  I'd like to be able to cook healthy meals all the time.  I'd like to have a thriving indoor garden.  Honestly, I'd like to be able to keep up with the dishes.  I'd like to actually write the book that's stuck in my head and actually see it published.  I'd love to be able to publish a new post on this blog every day, or even once a week would be wonderful.

But it just isn't happening.

I wake up and get ready for work.  I go to work.  When I get home in the evenings, there's dinner to make and eat.  Then I spend time with my husband.  And then it's bedtime.  That's my life.

And I want to do more.  I want to be more.  I want to be someplace that fits me.

And I'd like a friend.


I have to tell you, though, I'm afraid to find a friend, afraid to find a place where I feel like I belong, afraid to begin something new outside of my home.  I'm afraid that I'll have to move away from my friend and wherever I find that fits and whatever I try to do.  I've moved so much already and I know I'll be moving again, I just don't know when.  So what's the point of making connections?  What's the point of trying to figure out where I fit?  I have work friends.  I have my plants.  I got quite a few tomatoes and some delightful herbs out of my potted garden this summer.  My orchids are still alive and so are my strawberry plants.  There are people at church who know me.  But I don't feel plugged in.

I feel separate.

Maybe it's my fault.  Partly, it is, I suppose.  Too afraid to reach out.  Too afraid to change.  Content to stay in my loneliness even though it's so...lonely.  It's a comfortable place to be.  It's unhealthy, but I don't want to move.  It's my spot.


I need to change.  I need to get past this fear.  And I need to find my motivation.