the sequence with a smash cut

This was one of those weeks. When you do it to yourself, and the week finishes you off.

I overextended myself these last seven days. Some very important things at work, mix in a few personal endeavors, and then there's the general unexpectedness of life. A dash, let's say. As it goes, some things went well and some things, I think I'd rather forget. If I had it to do again, I would have made some different choices about my commitments. In a quiet moment, I'm even a little worried that I actually like to do this to myself. To make it almost impossible for me to have just one important thing going on at a time. Like how my daughter was born when Obama became president. I mean, come on.

This was a week when I played the impostor at the things I wish I could do. Let's face it: I'm not a scholar. I believe in the discipline, I believe in the rigor. I love to read about it. But, when it gets right down to it, it's just not me. This is a difficult thing to admit, because I've had a lot of dreams about the person I could be. An actress, director, lawyer, professor. I didn't put everything I had into any one of these pursuits, but they were roles I had imagined myself playing. The ones that made the cut after I read Nancy Drew and realized I wasn't going to be a detective. Or a cardiologist. These were identities I felt might be within my reach, and the only thing keeping me from taking their shape was time, and effort. That's what I always thought, anyway.

This week, I realized that one of these things was never really available to me. I just don't have the constitution, the muster, the belief. Or the skills. The aptitude. I'm really one of those people that everyone just thinks is worldly. And I can sell almost everything, because I'll believe in anything. With honesty. So this comes off as smart, committed, and knowledgeable. It's gotten me far. I'm not a fake, that's not what I'm saying. But I'm not meant to be an expert, a specialist. I'm a pinwheel. I'm gullible.

So this week, I shut the door to a future I thought I might have had. Without sadness or regret. I just said good-bye, and took a step away and into something else that is uncertain. It could be exciting, even. There are other dreams to be had, I'm sure. I just wish I hadn't packed this discovery all into this week.

This morning, sitting on the floor with my daughter while she was playing, my legs crossed, she handed me a book to read. I know it by heart, but we went through the pages one by one and read as though each one was new. She sunk her head into my lap and held my knee. She looked up at me and smiled and made a lion's roar. And I thought to myself, she has no idea the dreams I've let go.

So I'll still believe in anything.