Too Much, Too Many

I have too much I want to do and too many things on my list.  It’s not a bucket list or a chore list really.  But, dozens of reminders of things I want to try to cook, try to make, try to learn about.  Too many lists of too many things and am unable to figure out where to start most days.  I confess I have completed a few things on the latest compilation of lists.  I have simply marked through some other things to eliminate them rather deal with them.

I have multiple notebooks full of lists.  My hobby seems to be making lists.  I have ideas, I read about things, I get an interest in something and it goes on my lists.  The problem is that some things never get off the list.  Many of the items are not really things to do, but reminders of how to act or think as habitual behaviors.  Some are simply maxims to try to live by.  There are items to buy, books to read, menus to cook, crafts to create, places to visit, people to see, questions to ask. 

I get aggravated with it because I want to get it all done and then again, I don’t want to feel compelled to get it all done.  I have a significant problem with making up my mind.  Deciding a course and sticking to it through to completion. 

Here’s the comical part I am dealing with recently.  I have a tablet full of notes and also a wonderful agenda notebook gifted to me by our son and his bride.  I have a section in the agenda, six plus pages, where I have made a list of things. I am considering getting yet another notebook and trying to sort the list into categorized lists.  It wouldn’t be the first time to try that.  One excuse I have made to myself for being less organized with this aspect of my existence is that I can’t find the right notebook or organizing tool.  And I can’t decide on what to write with.  And I don’t know if I should include all the previous books of lists when I do take on the task.  This is all very ridiculous and very personal. Some people collect stamps or follow college sports.  I collect tidbits of notions and make lists of them.

I have seen the bullet journal concept.  I have avoided it. For a lister like me, that kind of project could either be a deeper, darker obsession or could push me to the brink of exhaustion.  And I always see the journals with all the decorated pages as being frivolous and time consuming.  It may end up on the table after all.  Along with art journaling or a “smash book” I think may be the current term, perhaps I could slow the chasing thoughts and tame the lists.  I know for a fact there are far too many duplicate entries over the scope of all my notebooks.  What if I could make one big beautiful book to hold all my lists? 

I think I may be going over the edge.  I am either going crazy or going creative.  To me both feel the same. 

Enough of this nonsense.  I needed to write Orchids.  I haven’t been consistent the last few weeks.  Now I know why.  Too much nonsense chasing around my brain.  Too many thoughts jumbled up in there. 

Trouble with the Orchids

I am having trouble smelling the orchids today. Of course, it is Monday. This morning was not a bad as some have been lately. I don’t know what was different in my preparation for it. Sunday was good. Not exceptional. I slept okay, not great. But, somehow, the morning was better than I expected.

The day went fairly smoothly. I didn’t hit any big snags doing reports. I walked at Magnolia Ridge this evening. I saw five deer. They saw me and just watched me stroll by and then back by on the return. Supper was good.

The family is doing pretty well. Aunt and cousin still firmly in our daily prayers as they struggle with ongoing health issues. But, the rest of us are okay.

I had planned on writing about my son. He turned thirty this past Saturday. He is four thousand miles away working and playing. I miss him, but am so proud and thrilled he and his wife have this opportunity to live in paradise for a little while. I decided I was not brave enough to write about him. I might come undone if I delve too deeply remembering my sweet son. Oops…stop…even now my eyes sting.

Changing the subject quickly, I am once again sitting at my new desk typing. I also have continued to write the prescribed “morning pages” from Cameron’s work. I have too many things awaiting my attention. Too many courses of study pending. Not enough hours in the day. I have been saying that a lot lately. I don’t usually have this complaint. My biggest problem is prioritizing what to work on at any given moment.

Decision making is one of my weakest points. I even try to make certain rules to go by so I don’t have to struggle with such trivial things as deciding what to eat from a menu or what products to purchase for housekeeping.

Other things I simply put off deciding until the decision is made for me. Either the opportunity is lost or someone else decides and I go along. It is a trust issue. Not trusting my own choices. I feel I have made so many poor decisions in my life that I still feel the repercussions from I don’t want to take risks. Fear.  How I despise it.  Yet, it still stalks me.

But, the fear has to do with him, too. I don’t want to make poor decisions that adversely affect him. I try to avoid causing him chaos. I am not sure he would agree with that statement. I know he goes out of his way to tend to my difficulties. I so appreciate him for it. And yes, his patience has grown by leaps and bounds over these many years.

I suppose I do smell a faint whiff of fragrance after all. The orchids are sometimes lost in the tangle of my mind and I don’t see them or smell them. I have to stop and untangle my thoughts. Stop and talk to Him. Walk out in the fresh air. Fuss at myself some. Then, finally, sit down to the page. Whether here or in my journal to write it out.

I write almost every day. Sometimes, I seem to write all day. When I go too many days without writing, I can’t see the orchids. The dark tangle of my emotions overcomes me and I struggle to get through the hours. The words flowing onto the page are like the flood of tears from a grieving heart. They give relief and ease the spirit. Even when the thoughts and words, the days and occasions are happy, they can become tangled for me if I don’t write out the feelings.

I know when I am at my worst. My journal becomes a long to-do list. Listing, of course, being my great crutch to try to resolve chaos. I am almost without a list at this time. I know of a couple of short ones and then the long lists of books I want to read and songs I want on my iPod. Those don’t count. Like some of my pin boards don’t count when I feel the need to redirect my interests. Books and music are paramount for me. I don’t know if being without the lists is a good thing at the moment or if I am just in transition. Time will tell. Besides, Cameron’s book has homework assignments requiring lists! (Hmmm! Maybe that is part of the appeal!)

I need to do some untangling of my thoughts before bedtime. This is what my mind feels like sometimes:

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