I blame my upbringing

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Sometimes I think to myself

"I just can't do it."

I am overwhelmed by the possibilities out there. The who, what, why, how and where to go are too much, too fast.

Like today. I had this great idea. I had butterflies in my stomach just thinking about it. I was grinning ear to ear and jotting down notes and researching. It wasn't a new idea, in fact it is one I have stewed on and planned out before. I have chewed this idea up and spit it out about a thousand times.

But always there is this brick wall. I can't climb over it. I can't go under it. I can't get through it.

Instead I am discouraged by it, stopped by it, crushed by it at times. Darn that brick wall.

The sheer size and scope of this dream - let's call it that for kicks, since that's really what this is - makes me tremble. I start to think about all the details and hurdles and I just want to curl up in a ball. Or have something to eat.

I just can't do it.

But I got to thinking. And that is always dangerous.

What if Josh or Carly said those words to me. "I just can't do it Mom."

And that stopped me cold.

I'm still scared, doubtful, and overwhelmed by the mammoth size of my pipe dream.

But if I really can't do it, I am at least going to try.

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