I’m back to not knowing what the hell I’m doing and I wonder if this is my default state. Transition provided a goal to focus on with clear steps to follow to make it happen. Even with all the uncertainty in my life, it was an anchor holding me from floating away.
Today I fell adrift. Worse, I know I’m drifting closer to the undertow of financial ruin and my inflatable raft is slowly losing air and I hardly have the energy to blow into it. Instead, I’m using the stuffing from my life jacket to try and plug holes, which means that I’m doubly screwed if I sink.
And I’m lucky. I have retirement savings to burn through. That’s what ties my brain in knots.
I tell myself that it’s okay to take a break, to rest, to recharge, to use that money to chill the fuck out, but the longer I don’t do anything the harder it becomes to do something. I’ve promised myself I’ll kick it into gear in January, but now I’m starting to worry that will be too late.
Once again I’m placing most of my eggs into a single basket by tying to start another business, and it’s scary as hell. There are other, smaller baskets, but I know those won’t pay the bills that need to be paid. With kids, the stakes are different this time.
Intellectually, I know I’ll find a way. I always have. But the doubts whisper to me. Somewhere in the past few years I feel like I spent my reserves of confidence on transition. I have to trust they’re there, even if I don’t see them.