I recently got introduced to some wonderful craft blogs (links on the side of my blog). These bloggers' lives are what I've always dreamed of. They write, they craft, they hang out with their children, who do their own crafts with their sweet little fingers. They are just like the person who, as a kid, I assumed I'd be when I grew up.
My husband and I are in the process of buying a house--our dream house--the kind of house where I imagined myself doing all that crafting and writing. It's on an acre of land, so we'll have plenty of room for gardens and hanging out (and animals--lots of dogs, rabbits, etc!). It's big enough that I'll get a craft/writing room, where I can decorate as I please and leave yarn all over if I want to. (Of course I'll have to work to help pay for the house, but that's just a pesky detail.)
So now that I'm getting to a place in my life where I can really envision myself living the life I've dreamed of for so long, I find myself asking, Will I really be able to? Will I be able to devote so much time to things that give me pleasure? Will I be able to not feel incredibly guilty doing so? Will I be able to enjoy it without feeling like there are better things I ought to be doing with my time? (Like, say, saving the world.) Is it OK to relax and enjoy life? Will I just find something new to worry about?
I guess I'll find out in the months and years ahead. (I assume that finalizing the buying of this place, selling our condo, and moving will give me enough to stress about in the near future.) But in the mean time, the idea that I could be worried about not worrying is something I Just Don't Get.
For more writing on things that baffle us, check out this week's Sunday Scribblings.