Tools spread out around me. I cursed under my breath. Kicked the uneven hunk of wood across the driveway.
By then, 3 hours in, I thought I’d be further along. Instead I’d spent the afternoon fighting with a saw, yelling at unruly tools, cursing annoyingly large lumber. And all I had to show for it was a bloody thumb and pile of roughly cut, mismatched scraps of wood.
It hadn’t gone at all how I imagined, was much more difficult than planned.
I’d like to say I ended the night triumphantly sleeping on my perfectly built, pinterest-worthy, hand-built bed frame, but the truth is I sat on the bathroom floor crying hot tears of frustration, wondering if it was worth it, if the difficulty was a sign I should give up.
And then I remembered.
This is exactly how I felt when building the sidecar. And when learning to drive a stick while crossing the country in an old VW van. And when I moved to a new city, first learned to knit, changed the oil, baked a cake. And on and on.
The resistance doesn’t mean we need to stop. It’s simply part of the process. A necessary (and frustrating) step from clueless to knowledgeable. From novice to expert.
So the next time you feel like giving in, take a pause instead. Cry if you need, curse if you must. Then get up and get back to it. Build it, make it, do it. The obstacle is the way.
You got this.
*update – I did it! Bed frame complete. It’s not perfect, but it’s done and I love it. Thanks resistance. You were annoying, but useful.