Join the photo a day group

Getting over myself.

Fat Mum Slim /

This post took me 7 hours to write. Weird.

Well, I started writing it. Deleted it. Started writing again. Ate some weetbix with high protein muesli and nuts scattered on top. Wrote some more. Started cleaning my office. Mentally wrote some more. And then escaped to the supermarket.

Now I’m deleting it again and writing this.

This isn’t a masterpiece. That isn’t why it’s taken so long to hit publish. I have writer’s block. The cause is fear and anxiety. The solution is getting over myself.

Remember when I quit my job?

It’s been almost 3 weeks now, and I think there’s a process that goes with doing something so brazen, much like the grieving process… only different.

First there was fear {can I do this? Should I do this?}, and then there was celebration {Woot! I did it!}. And for a while there was bravado and pride {I really did it, I CAN do it!}, and a dash of excitement too.

I’m now in that stage of “What the heck have I done? Can I do this?” I don’t regret it. I have this completely self-assured feeling that I’ve done the right thing. I don’t get that often. Even when I buy a pair of jeans, after 16-odd wears, I can think that I’ve made a mistake in buying them. But this, I know it’s what I was meant to do. But still there’s this fear.

I spoke with a friend on the phone yesterday, “This fear is paralyzing”. Perhaps that’s a tad dramatic, but it’s like a block and it’s hard to do anything. She kindly assured me that she knew what it felt like, and got it often too. There’s comfort in that, knowing you’re not alone.

So I’m writing this post to get my wheels in motion. To share the process. To move past it.

We had an interview with a local little school for Lacey last week, and the director went through the school’s philosophy. It was a list of 10 and she got to number 7 and read it out: “We take risks. We’re not afraid to fail. Please tell us if we fail so we can grow.”

I’m not afraid of failing. I’m okay with taking risks. I don’t think I am I don’t know what I’m afraid of. Money? Perhaps that’s it. I’ve always worked. Always provided regular income to our bank account. And I guess realising how big the decision I made was. To be without the security of a job. To be doing it on my own.

One of my ever-so-clever Facebook page likers {and now friend} Joseph messaged me today, and he gave me these wise words: “I’m yet to meet someone who was disappointed they followed their dreams.”

I hope he’s right.