How Dealing with Cancer is Like Building a House

by Christie Perkins

If you have ever built a house you know the deep ditch neuro pathways you carve from overthinking details.

You even sometimes dream about the process… or have nightmares.

“She turned to the sunlight And shook her yellow head,And whispered to her neighbor_ _Winter is dead.”(1)You have lived in other places and you quickly categorize what you like and don’t like. You adopt and adapt from previous experience the things you should do for the next house. But some things you take for granted, like the placement of plugs. You don’t really think about those details because someone else does the thinking for that.

Unless you’ve had a bad experience with that.

In my last house I had one light switch in a bedroom that was vacationing halfway down the wall. Ok. Maybe not that far. But, you would practically jab your armpit with the door frame before you found the switch… and I always prayed that a spider wasn’t playing boogie man as I felt the wall.

That’s crawly (not to mention creepy). Continue reading

WELCOME

The Holes of Overthinking and Procrastination

Hang a picture today.

Hang a picture today.

I have a confession: I’m a bit of a procrastinator, a perfectionist, and an overthinker.  Bad combo, I know.  It’s why it took me several years to get pictures on the wall of my first home.  I wanted to hang my pictures only once.  I didn’t want to leave a little hole if I decided to move it (and yes, I’m fully aware of wall putty…but I’m also a procrastinator).  It’s a disease, really.

This disease is why I’ve been only contemplating launching my blog.  It’s been well over 5 years.  I wanted it to be perfect: no flaws in page-loading , no thinking kinks, no plastered smile on my author picture.  Bleh!  My posed pictures always look fake.  I wanted a masterpiece from the start.  Yeah, I know.  (You can relax your eyebrows and wipe that smirk off your face.)  I didn’t want to leave any little holes.  But here’s the problem- contemplation minus action equals life dissatisfaction.

It creates its own ugly hole.

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