Hi. My name is story, and I'm an objective-aholic.
It appears at times you wouldn't expect. When I'm wandering through the toy aisles at Target, when I'm sitting on the floor with my daughters, on the rare occasions that I'm browsing Pinterest, when I sit down and put my feet up to watch junk TV at the end of the night, the same question swims through my brain.
"But what's the point?"
I look at crafts with an eye to what BG will actually get out of it. When I play with the baby, in the back of my head I'm analyzing the developmental benefits of Peek a boo versus Pat-a-cake. When I sit down at my computer to mess around and kill some time, I'm twitching for something to accomplish.
My in laws bought BG a Power Wheels car for her birthday. She loves it. But every time we get it out, my brow furrows a little. I don't understand. She isn't learning anything. She isn't getting any exercise driving it. She isn't interacting with anyone.
So what's the point?
Sometimes, as my three year old understands so much better than I do, the point is just to play. Or to rest. The point is that it's fun.
The other day, when looking for something else, I found this quote from Brene Brown about play:
Then I found some research by Dr. Stuart Brown. He said that play is something you did "that caused you to lose track of time." Which I called work. He called play "time spent without purpose." Which I called an anxiety attack.
So much of what I do is a fake busy-ness really. A busy-ness designed to numb the vulnerability of the quiet and the stillness. To make me feel like I'm accomplishing something, like I'm not a failure. To dispel the frustration and the disappointment that is really a natural part of being a stay at home parent, a natural part of being a human probably.
And when I constantly drown out the stillness, drown out the moment, drown out the scary feelings of not doing anything, of not getting anywhere? I lose out on a lot of the good stuff too. I don't give myself a chance to fail, but I don't give myself a chance to do much of anything else either.
So what's the point of all this NaNoBloPo nonsense? Is it to grow my readership? Build my writing skills? Reach some huge realization about myself? Get famous? Get someone to save me from myself?
No. It's not any of those things. It's just to do it. Just to write a blog post every day. There's no objective. There's no end goal. There is only now, in the moment, doing this thing, and that's okay.
I'm writing. And then I'm going to go sit on the floor for a while.