Finishing

I'm a fairly introspective person. I tend to detach from the situations I'm in and think about why and how I feel the way I do followed by setting a logical course of action to eliminate the negative emotions. My Spock side is always whispering in my ear, urging me to ascertain the causes of my feelings and actions even as my Kirk side rages forth in a tidal wave of emotion.

So when one of my Write on Edge cohorts threw a toss away sentence at me a couple months ago, it made me think, adjust my self perceptions, and wonder how she saw something I've never seen.

It was a simple sentence. One that made me sit back in my chair and say, "What?" while scratching my head in the way one ponders.

"I've never known you not to accomplish something you reach for."

I can't remember if it was Angela, Cam, Nancy, or Cheryl who said those words. The name next to the Skyped message is fuzzy with time. But the words were a seed; a seed gradually sprouting and unfurling leaves.

For years, I've had another voice sending me a different message.

"You always give up."

"You quit."

"You can't commit to a project."

"You lose interest too quickly."

"Why are you even starting when you know you'll never finish?"

I like to see myself as someone who never gives up, never surrenders. I like to see myself as the tough who gets going when the going gets tough. I like to see myself as a finisher.

And yet...

That other voice rumbled, pushing out what I thought I knew.

It's laced with exasperation. It's been in my ear for a decade. Logically, I can't deny the truth.

I never ran that marathon I was excited to attempt.

Because I hate running.

My first venture into business failed. Not miserably, but enough that it was an example for years after.

I didn't stick with the kick boxing class, the soap making, the quilting, the second and third blogs I started on a whim. Books are stacked on my "to be read" pile with slips of paper marking progress never completed. Half knitted blankets are curled into plastic bags. Dozens of incomplete projects languish in the dim light of the garage, their dusty box tops testaments to how long they've been stacked on their shelf.

So I believed. The evidence was overwhelming, after all. I lack follow through. I don't finish what I start.

Until that seed was planted.

Isn't it amazing  how easily toss away words can impact a person's perception in the positive? How one sentence can cause the erosion of years of negative self talk?

Because for the first time, I saw in myself what she saw. I saw the person who finished NaNoWriMo while holding down a full time job and caring for two small children without the benefit of a partner. I saw the person who grows her garden, raises chickens, and still cans into the wee hours of the night. I saw the person who has blogged since 2004, never missing more than a week here or there. I saw the person working on her book until her eyes blur and her fingers ache from typing.

I saw the person who tried desperately to hold together a crumbling marriage destined to fail.

I saw the person who tried to hold on to a relationship on life support.

That person isn't a quitter. She makes things happen. Little things like a birthday party pulled together with gift cards, hours with a glue gun, and knowing she needs help and help is not a weakness. She makes big things happen, things like trips and books and children who are thriving in spite of their parents' divorce.

I have a lot of plans for this year. Some of the projects I'm attempting fill me with fear. Others with the nervousness usually reserved for unfamiliar roller coaster rides. And some with excitement as I realize more and more I'm enough, not just for me, but for my kids.

My astrologist told me 2013 was a year when I'd look back at the previous fifteen and come to an understanding and inner peace as to why everything has happened.

Maybe it's also a year to recognize who I am and realize that one thing I'm not is a quitter.