I’ve never made a habit of jumping rope in public. My heart race increases when I remember the feeling of waiting to jump in to the ropes in double dutch.
I remember rocking back and forth, watching the rounds tick past and my friend’s facial expressions go from encouraging to embarrassed to annoyed.
What exactly was I waiting for?
The ropes didn’t get slower or lighter as the seconds pass. The odds of failure didn’t decrease. I definitely didn’t get any better watching the ropes pass.
The longer you wait the less fun it gets.
So why wait?
I always wanted to be the kind of person who kept in straight away.
The last time I checked in here, I had jumped into the ropes. I jumped into a Masters in counseling after a friend applied and reassured me that it was easier and less terrifying than I expected.
And now I’m jumping rope for the foreseeable future, spending two nights in classes with *gasp* homework.
I’m happy to be in the game. I love school. I even love homework.
Indecisive people and procrastinators may understand the complicated delight in reviving a syllabus with weekly deadlines.
I’m remembering now how hard it is at first do or think about anything else while you’re jumping that incessant beat.
With practice, though, it becomes just another step.
Ego On Purpose 
So, what’s your next double dutch and the step that gets you in the game?
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Ha! I love your writing! Fantastic analogy and your witty humor is right on par for my taste. Still trying to figure out “Ego on Purpose” and can’t stop thinking about “Navel gazing is search of meaning, decisiveness, and lint”! Freakin’ hilarious! Then again the website is called pivotprocrastinator…
But that’s a lot about the website and not the writing. I love the writing. Did I say that already? Sometimes it’s difficult to talk about serious things. This is a beautiful way of doing so and inspires me to jump in. Keep writing, keep jumping. The habit is started, keep going.
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Oh man, I always wanted to be a girls who could double-dutch. Those girls were so cool and complicated.
This is such a lovely analogy. That first leap in is really the thing, isn’t it? Because once you do THAT terrifying part, you already know you’re capable of doing the work. It’s like the toil of the decision and then that almost imperceptible moment immediately before you leap in iss the only part that is ever a problem. The rest is figure-outable.
What’s up with that, anyway? Before we leap, are we really afraid of the stuff that comes after the leap (like we rationalize is the case) or are we conscious of the fact that we’re most afraid of the moment of leap? And why be afraid of that moment in the first place when we know from experience the relief that comes after the deed is done? That question just hurt my head.
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You’ve got quite a sense of humor Kitty! Would you say it’s a tension between wanting to enjoy jumping in and being afraid to? Is it apprehension because you might make a mistake? Is it just chronic over calculation? I’m just curious to hear because it seems like when you do jump, you thoroughly enjoy it. But you’re not sure at what point you should take the leap.
Love your writing!
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Ding, ding, ding, Tiff! The fear of starting fresh is 100% related to the fear of failure. Once I get rolling, however, the flow takes over and I enjoy the ride. The trick of returning to a bank of stale insights and ideas gets the cart rolling, but it’s a crappy, wobbly sucker, and the lack of real tension or curiosity shows!
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