I’m starting to think I am incapable of reaching this year’s ambitious goals. I am happy I’m writing again. I am happy when I get a picture of the kids. I am happy I am going through the Artist’s Way journey. I am frustrated I can’t lose those last few pounds. I am frustrated when I don’t meet goals.

I feel like a loser.

I can honestly say that not meeting goals is 99% of the time due to lack of time, of prioritizing my kids/family. The not producing a play? I wasthisclose. And I will try again.

So my timelines may not be correct.

And today, my only goal is living.

I’ve had pain in my left arm for over a year, and it’s been getting worse. I went to a doctor today, who sent me for x-rays immediately. (Doing anything “immediately” that is not scheduled is a Herculean task and I thank Huzzy for taking on the kids while I went to the hospital.)  The xrays showed nothing, so I’m off to get a CT scan on Monday. That leaves a lot of worry time.

It could be cancer.

Of course the doctor didn’t say that. He’s not a fool. But I know my family history and the night sweats aren’t a good sign here.

And I’m scared.

Sad that I’m honestly hoping that all I have is a disgusting sac of goo in my arm.

That’s like, the worst goal ever.