There is a question that’s popular among attendees at Alcoholics Anonymous (AA): What’s hurting you right now?

If you’re like me, on any given day it could be any number of things. It’s also maybe multiple things at once.

I’ve wanted to be an author for as long as I can remember. I wrote kids’ books as a kid and I even wrote a book about divorce from a child’s perspective. Over the years, I started several novels, blogs and short stories. The problem is, I never finished any of it.

I never finish anything. (That’s not true – that’s the depression talking. But that shit is loud most of the time!)

Not finishing these projects is painful for me. It’s like having clutter – and that causes anxiety. When I was younger, this clutter-variety anxiety turned into get-it-done juice and I powered through. It was almost as if I welcomed the insurmountable as a challenge just to show it I could do whatever it said I couldn’t. As I’ve grown older, and arguably wiser, so too, grows my fear.

So the question is – why? Why don’t I finish these things (or really anything)?

In my years of not finishing things, and thanks to my intelligence and debate prowess, I’ve turned into a bit of an excuse maker… ahem… err… queen. In what may be my greatest talent, I can justify or explain away nearly every.single.bad.choice.I.make. Most people probably merely grow tired of arguing with me instead of actually believing I’m right, yet I argue further.

You know who is the hardest to argue with? The voice in my head that knows every excuse I make is pathetic. She is unwaveringly cruel. She knows I’m full of shit. And even if I tell her I’m scared or I’m weak, which are truths, she will use it against me. I will “do” or attempt even less to avoid her ridicule.

But until I’m honest with myself, everything will sit, unfinished. Incomplete. Perhaps even un-started.

Even if I tell you the truth right now, there’s a good chance it won’t make a difference for me. But maybe it will for you.

I’m scared, terrified.

Cool, calm and collected on the exterior. Inside, I’m shivering with fear.

I don’t do failure well and yet every successful and creative person says it’s a “must.” I know what needs to happen but fail to ever move toward action or goals. Where did the confident, can’t-hold-me-down young woman go?

No, really… where is she?