I am, perhaps, the most indecisive person I know. Ask me something; you’ll get a different response most of the time! Some call that flaky or fickle. But the real word is unsure. As in, unsure of myself. In my head I can do great things: My garden is lovely, my house is, well, a home. I take care of my body. My daughter has a patient, creative mother. My husband has a wonderful, badass wife.
I am all these things, some of the time. I’d like to feel that when I’m not, the world won’t come crashing down. My husband loves me, I know he does. My daughter will grow up just fine and love me no matter what, cause at the end of the day, I’m still her mama. She still wants a kiss and a cuddle before bed, regardless of how many projects we did or didn’t do.
But I’d like to be confident at the end of the day that I truly did my best and know that if I didn’t, come sunrise, I’ll have another chance.
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