I don't know what I'm doing.
There are times when I feel like a little girl all dressed up in her mom's dress with a huge necklace down to her knees, clomping around in shoes 10 sizes too big with lipstick smeared across her face.
Here I am, a 30 year old woman in her 13th year of marriage with four children, and I still feel like a child.
I look around me at all the people who seem so confident and competent and seem to have everything together, and I wonder if they feel as lost as I do.
This feeling is especially prevalent when it comes to my writing. I read so many books that leave me in awe, and then I look at my own writing and wonder who I'm kidding.
I want to write something meaningful, profound, inspiring, uplifting, or at least helpful or worthwhile in some way. I have this high-follutin dream (By the way, is high-follutin even a word? Am I misspelling it so badly that the spell checker can't even recognize it?) Anyway, I have this high-follutin dream of writing the next "great American novel", something that readers for generations will read and love. But I wonder if that's even within the realm of possibility for me. I'd say it's not, but there's this tiny voice inside me that says anything is possible.
So, that's me. In a nutshell, I feel like Jerry Seinfeld trying to pass himself off as President Hinckley. Sooner or later, everyone will see I'm a fraud.