Things I haven’t finished
A five-course UPenn Specialization in Positive Psychology I started last fall. So far I’ve only completed two of them. I enjoyed what I was learning, but it was a pretty significant time commitment. I also felt like I was competing against myself to finish each module faster than the “suggested learning time,” and to score higher than average on the exams. I was overwhelming myself. And somewhere in the back of my mind I wondered if I was actually taking the classes because I wanted to, or I just wanted to have the certification as an accomplishment on my resume. (Spoiler alert: it was the latter.)
Three children’s books I wrote last year. They’re actually pretty good, or at least my own kids think they are. They’re in the same vein as The Book With No Pictures, by BJ Novak. Talking straight to the reader (or listener) on their level, with humor and silliness and imagination. I started researching publishers but haven’t contacted any of them yet. I still want to make them happen. Maybe there’s just too much other stuff going on to focus my attention there. I’d like to get back to it sometime.
A self-portrait (in charcoal) I started in 2020. I've done everything but my face. I’ve tried to start it a few times, and hated where it was going. So I stopped and erased. I’m kind of paralyzed by the idea of it now, with a faceless version of myself tucked away in a closet. The rest of the portrait looks so good, and I don’t want to mess that up. Maybe I should just stay faceless?
So many books. I used to think I needed to finish every one I started, even if it took years, out of some invisible obligation to myself and the author. Now I’m more comfortable putting down a book once I feel like I’ve gotten what I needed from it. Because I am a grown-ass woman. So there.
Countless Google Docs of bad poetry. So, so bad.
Therapy. I’ve had three therapists in the last three years. I can’t even remember the first one. The second one helped me through my disordered eating. The third was starting to get into childhood things when my free trial of the app I was using ended. Which was fine, because I didn’t want to go there, anyway. Life and Mindset Coaching has been a much better fit for me, but should I also go back to more traditional therapy? Probably. Will I? Undecided.
At least 10 businesses/websites. Every time I get an idea, I ask my husband to buy the domain for me so that it’s there when I’m ready for it. I have domains for small agencies, domains for food businesses, domains for non-profits. This website is one of only three I’ve ever really followed-through on—the others being my professional portfolio site, and the site for a small bakery I owned before kids. I’m secretly hoping someone will want to buy one of my other ten and then I’ll make a lot of money off it, and I can go on vacation somewhere. It hasn’t happened yet, but never say never.
Plastic surgery consultations. OK, this one’s pretty difficult to admit. I made and cancelled three appointments last year. I get into these head-spaces where I think, “OK. I’m doing great with my intuitive eating, I’m not overexercising, but I still don’t like the way I look or feel. I don’t want to jeopardize my recovery by going back to unhealthy daily habits, so the healthier route is to surgically fix what I don’t like.” So I schedule the appointment. But then a few days before I’m supposed to go, when I get that little text reminder ping, I’m hit with an incredible wave of what feels like shame. “If I’m truly in recovery, I wouldn’t be doing this. I don’t want to slip backwards. I’ve worked so hard to get where I am.” And then…because I’m too embarrassed to call…I also cancel the appointment via text. If I’m being honest, though, I still want to do it.
Three uber-vulnerable blog posts. I wrote each of them in a long stream of consciousness, somewhat unable to stop. It was like I HAD to put the words on the page, but when I was done, they were too much for me to handle. The posts had sharp edges and big, big feelings that may have hurt other people. I didn’t delete them. They’re my hidden emotional time capsule. But now they’re stuck in the purgatory of my Blog Drafts folder. I do go back and read them once in a while, though. Sometimes I’m in such a different headspace that I want to just delete them. They’re irrelevant. But I know that my headspace changes often, so I keep them around, just in case.
—
I’m sure I’m missing other things. Things that I haven’t finished, but weren’t significant enough for me to think about again.
Sometimes I’m fine with not finishing them, like all the books I’ve half-read. I feel a sense of growth and accomplishment in being able to let those go. But other things…they nag me. They’re like a record of where I was at a certain point in time. They hold ideas and potential and promises I gave up on for one reason or another. I feel regret and sadness. I wonder what would have happened if I had finished them.
Maybe I will, at some point. I’d like to get those books published. I wouldn’t mind finishing my face. But we’ll see.
For now, they’ll all remain in limbo. But I’m going to try not to worry too much about them. Unless you know a good publisher. In that case, please hit me up.