If my last few posts are anything to go by, I’ve got a few things on my plate at the moment. Between the day job and having a life with my wife, it’s a lot to cram in.
So much so that, sometimes, the temptation is to avoid it.
Hey, maybe I’m just asking too much of myself. Becoming a scooter commuter? Writing a novel in a year? Solving Vickie’s computing stresses? The podcasts? All my other bits and pieces, plus [My Little Pony Friendship Is Magic Fan Fiction]? I know I’ve culled some stuff already, but maybe I ought to bite the bullet and cull some more.
After all, there’s only so much one person can do.
But maybe that’s the point.
Maybe I need to answer to my too-much-for-one-person problem not by solving the “too much” side of the equation, but the “one person” side.
Now, there’s something I’m good at avoiding…
Take, for example, the Foxy Lady.
Last time I blogged about Born to be Mild, I mentioned that I’d got my licence and was looking at the next steps in order to get on the road and commuting as quickly as possible. I also mentioned that I need to get a roadworthy certificate for the Foxy Lady so I can register her in Queensland, which means taking her into one of two places in Cairns proper.
Far as I can see, I have three options to take her in:
- Try and put her in the back of the car. Now, I doubt that’s gong to happen, even with the seats down, and I’m not about to try going in with the back hatch roped as close to closed as I can get it.
- Ask Karl to put her on the back of the ute and take the both of us in. It’s a tempting option, but unless I’m in a desperate rush, I’d prefer to take the next one:
- Ride the Foxy Lady into and out of Cairns.
And between you, me and the Internet, I really like the idea of option #3.
Still, no matter whether I go with Options 2 or 3, I’m not going to be able to get the Foxy Lady into town on my own – until I graduate my learner’s licence, I still need a fully licensed buddy rider with me.
Which means I’m going to have to do something else that scares me:
I’m going to have to… ask for help.
I am not good at this:
- My perfectionist streak won’t let me admit that I can’t do something without aid.
- My fear of disappointing doesn’t want me to let someone down by asking him or her for assistance.
- My fear of failure doesn’t want someone else deciding they’re better off just taking the job away from me and doing it themselves. (Impossible, I know – no one but me can learn me how to ride a scooter – but there it is.)
- My fear of commitment doesn’t want to involve anyone else so that I can safely pretend the project doesn’t exist anyway.
I know intellectually that these justifications are bollocks. But that doesn’t stop me from avoiding the thought, “I ought to just call Karl and Anthony and see what their schedules are like.” Heck, I’ve had the licence for a good week and a bit now and I still haven’t called them about getting some riding practice in. (Bumped into Anthony in town once and chatted about it briefly.)
Most of the time, you can’t do it alone.
In my guest post over on Cordelia Calls It Quits, I talk a lot about how I tend to demonise other people as folks who are only going to wind up disappointed in me. Because of this, I tend to internalise a lot, try and get things done by myself.
But the truth is, I rely on other people all the time.
I didn’t build my house. I didn’t make my car, my computer, my clothes. Unless I abandon everything and adopt a lifestyle of survival by foraging and bushcraft, every second of my existence relies on the work others have done to make my life easier.
And I don’t care whether or not I disappoint that legion of invisible people.
(Should I? I think there’s a whole line of thought in there about being a responsible citizen that’s worth exploring.)
Plus, the people close to me are good folks who don’t deserve the treatment my panic-brain tries to give them.
When it comes down to it, this is a simple task that just requires a phone call to resolve.
So it’s about time I put my big boy’s pants on and picked up that phone.
Sometime. You know, soon.
Are you stressing?
When was the last time you knew you had to ask someone to help you do something, but kept putting it off?
How did you justify the delays to yourself?
Photos sourced from morgueFile and stock.xchng
Cyclist by hotblack
Hands by Julia Freeman-Woolpert
Skyscraper cleaners by Sebastian Danon