muck

Does anyone feel like any making a big change in their life is like wading through muck? The momentum requires a vast amount of energy, confidence and patience without knowing if you will get your hoped outcome? Without knowing if you actually have the confidence required and basically becoming consumed with the fear you might fail, so just don't try at all?
This is what I am feeling everyday when the thought of a career pops into my head.
In fact, I am so paralyzed by this thought I cannot even type out my career idea on this blog, because then I will somehow be held to it, and that alone is too much pressure.
When I was a teenager, I wanted to be an astronaut. Remember the movie Space Camp? That was a real camp that I dreamed about going to at Cape Canaveral growing up. I would go, and like a model being discovered at the 7-11, somehow become an astronaut. The first time I saw The Right Stuff, you know the movie where the astronauts train to go to space, I was a changed kid. And it continued with Buck Rogers tv show, ET, Close Encounters of the Third Kind and so on and so on. I did not become an astronaut, obviously. Good thing, because the thought being an astronaut now brings on an instant feeling of panic. What if you get the flu in space, or run out of oxygen, or get a sudden case of claustrophobia? Yeah, that would not work for me and my germ issues now. Not at all.
Last night I cooked pork pot roast for D. birthday. Pork butt was on sale for $1.99 a pound and I wanted to see if I could do something with it. And since I did not get to making dinner until almost 5:30 and still had to finish washing the dishes, clean M. mess from the day and frost the cake I started to eyeball my pressure cooker. Instead of 3 hours to make a roast, it would take 30 minutes. Oh joy. I literally dumped dinner into the big pot. Carrots, potatoes, onions, garlic and a big piece of pork. I topped with mustard and capers. After calling my mother-in-law to get specifics on cooking times, I closed the lid and let it do its magic. 30 minutes later I am spooning out yummy pot roast onto our plates. But wait, the pork looks pink. Is it really cooked through? And here is how it went in my head.

Oh no, the pork may not be cooked.
It has to be cooked, it was in the pressure cooker dumbass
What if I get us all sick on D's birthday dinner?
Yeah, tapeworms and trichinosis
I will take it out, cut it, then sautee it more to make sure
Panic
More Panic
Oh, it is cooked, don't worry
Of course it is cooked, only you would worry about this.
It is cooked
I hope so, lets just pretend everything is ok

This was what happened as I stood at the stove, silently dealing with dinner. D and M oblivious, playing wild horse in the living room. I served it, we ate it, I said a silent prayer about it.
I am happy to report my digestive tract is doing ok today too, a good sign.
This is why I did not become an astronaut. I saved the world some grief. Definitely.