There is much to think about

I was thirsty. Usually I drink large cups and bottles of water all day, but because I've been wrangling kids the past three days, I haven't had a lot of water breaks and when I finally got up to get on the computer, I wanted to get as much out of my time here as possible before I got off to go back upstairs and sit in front of the fan. After a couple of hours doing this and that on the interweb, I resolved to get myself a drink and ended up helping myself to some fruit punch. I found myself back down at the computer with a large cup of ice and punch. I took a sip. It was good. I took another. It was also good. Less than a minute later the cup was nothing but ice. I had drunk it all. I stared into the cup for awhile, a little amazed at what I'd done. Not five minutes ago I had been parched and just a few minutes after making the decision to drink something I had drained a fountain cup. Mind you, this wasn't accomplished because the cup was small or because I have a particularly well-trained gag reflex. There was nothing special about taking a drink. But I got to the bottom so quickly because I didn't stop. I didn't allow myself to be overwhelmed by the volume or the temperature or the fact that I wasn't used to flavored juice. I decided to drink a cup of juice and I did it. I wanted it first. I wanted it for hours, in fact, but wanting it didn't get me very far. The decision to do it, the consciousness to follow through, is what got it done. And it's done. And I'm glad.
I don't pretend that landing a coveted role in a major show that also allows me to pay my bills or having a legislative position or writing a great book (or heaven help me, doing all at once) are as easy as taking a drink. I am not endeavoring to simplify the complex aspirations and desires necessary for reaching my own self actualization by comparing them to a trip to the kitchen and a moment of gluttony.But if I were, isn't it incredible what you can accomplish if you keep at it? I tried to climb a wall today. I didn't make it. I fell a bunch of times and had to start over, working not to undo the progress that I had made the previous times. I ended up wearing out my fingers so badly with all my starts that I could only make it about halfway before my fingers couldn't take it anymore. But how high could I have gotten if I hadn't spent so much time and energy on starting over? How much less detrimental would one or two slips have been if I had the strength to hold on, rather than let myself slide back to the beginning? How much stronger would I have turned out to be if I trusted myself to prevent me from falling as much as I trusted my anchor? I think about these things. All I had to do was hold on and push a little farther; a little longer; a little harder.
I have so much inside me. I can feel it. There's anger and greed. There's tenacity and passion. There's this quiet (speaking) voice and boisterous spirit. There's this need to make a splash and this hope not to impose. I'm constantly at work to reconcile the conflicting parts of me. They swim around in my body and my mind. Sometimes they come out on a page, in a post, during a conversation. Sometimes I try to release them and something gets stuck. I get stuck. I allow myself to get stuck and stay stuck. If I choked on a piece of ice I would cough; swallow hard; maybe try to melt it with my breath. I would do something to get it unstuck because I'd know how limited I would be so long as it stayed there. I have enough limits without the help of crushed ice or mental congestion or an extra responsibility in my schedule. Maybe I can't get rid of it. Maybe I'm not supposed to. But I can at least digest it so that it works for me, and not against me. I have much to think about. I think about it all. Sometimes my thoughts crowd in my head. Sometimes I can't get out enough to satisfy myself. I will endeavor to process it all in bits and pieces.