I dream about blocked goals.
I am trying to finish something or get somewhere and ten things pop up that hinder me. I chase rabbit trails that lead me farther away from the path I want, until I wake up with gritted teeth.
An organizer’s nightmare? Do-ers syndrome?
I feel I am well past the overachiever complex of my youth. I’m content to try and do what’s in front of me to the best of my ability, and be okay with that.
I guess I just want it all to matter. Why do we love those clicks on Facebook that we accumulate with a good post? They are like the gold stars on our elementary reading charts. We gain accolades with every shining moment.
At a recent writer’s conference I attended with my sister, one of the speakers asked the attendees if we write to gain attention. Half the audience raised their hands affirmatively. Somebody shouted the other fifty percent were liars.
We want impact. Validation.
It’s the human condition. For survivors, we sometimes feel we have more to prove than the average person. Doing more can mean less emphasis will be placed on our scars or our disability. Or so the theory goes…
Maybe I need to revisit my overachiever assumptions. In the meantime, I’ll be clicking a lot of posts on Facebook.