Admit it

I was sitting alone at the kitchen table gazing off into nowhere. It was quiet except for the normal pings and humming’s of the appliances surrounding me. It wasn’t a distracting noise but the white comforting background kind that I am familiar with. It was the kind that allowed me to sit and gaze into space with my mind slowing tripping over itself.
It lighted on one less important thing after another until it finally came circling around to what it seemed it wanted me to ponder on. It seemed I needed to remind myself of how hard it would be to do the things I was attempting this year. How did I think I was going to be able to accomplish these things?
I thought about what I do. I am a secretary. Let’s face it, no matter what fancy title they give me, that’s what I am. I had little formal training but have done best by following my instincts and learning as much as I could. I can admit to that with no problem and have done very well.
Now I have put myself into a training program for running 5 days a week and, honestly, that made me grin. I have been running off and on for a few years but have yet to admit that I am a runner. I will deny it any chance I get. “I’m not a runner. It doesn’t come easy or naturally for me. I have to work hard at it.” Yet, here I am after only the first week of this self-imposed training and I am doing it. I am running.
Then this whole idea I had come up with that I am going to write a novel this year. This doesn’t make me grin so much as wrinkle my brow and try to take a deep breath to settle and calm me. This is daunting. I needed to take another deep breath to settle myself. “I’m not a writer. I don’t know the rules or how to hit the marks I need to hit. This is something I have to work hard at.” But it is something that I have been doing consistently for the past 8 months. I am writing.
So I admit to being a self-taught secretary but not so much a runner or a writer. I had to grin again at myself at that point. When exactly did I think it would be that I crossed the fantasy line of not being into being?
I know I just need to follow my instincts and learn as much as I can. I’ll have to work hard at it.
Somehow I thought all that while sitting alone in a quiet kitchen with only the clicking of the surrounding appliances.
What can I say?  I tried to tell you I never know where my thoughts will take me.
TT