I've always had a sense of 'I can do that.' Not because I'm special or because I think someone else isn't special, but in a very no-nonsense 'if this thing can be done, surely I must be able to do it' kind of way. There are a few exceptions. Like singing. I can't do that. I mean, I can, but if the laughing I heard when my employee walked in on my wailing to Maroon 5 is any indication of my talent level, well, it's simply not fit for public consumption.
And I had a discussion with a friend recently over this. Her thought was that some things can be learned, while others are simply talents that can not be duplicated. (Like the singing, for instance) and yes, that's probably true. But I think if taught and given enough time, someone could decorate cakes like I do. Or could make any of the things I make.
Some might chalk this up to our generations upbringing of being told how special we are and how we 'can do anything we set our minds to,' and all that jazz. And sure, it's probably in there somewhere, but I realized that I came by it honestly.
I was raised by a family of doers.
I don't have grand memories of being tucked in at night. I can not honestly recall having anyone read me a book ever. I know I taught my sisters how to tie their shoes and their ABC's. My childhood wasn't awesome.
But, I was always taught to do. My first car? (that, I bought with my own money, BTW) My mom (not dad) taught me how to change my own oil. It wasn't until I moved away from home that I started getting it done at the dealership.
The summer I was 12 that I spent with my grandmother resulted in a wealth of knowledge that I still use to this day. She taught me how to can fruits and vegetables, crochet, and she was always there to help encourage my artistic outlets. That summer resulted in a fistfull of first place ribbons and several Grand Champion ribbons at the local fair. I'm sure that there wasn't a wealth of talent in Grant County to fight against in the pre-teen age group, but still.
While my mom did have her hoarding problems, specifically associated with antiques and other old junk, she also taught me how to care for them. We sanded down the dining room table and she stained and sealed it. I can't tell you how many pieces of furniture I have rehabbed either was a full make over or just a couple coats of spray paint.
Because things simply can be done.
Recently I made over a chandelier for the Restore and After project benefitting Habitat for Humanity. It was my third year to create a piece for them. It's a great cause, a wonderful opportunity to be creative and to share it with others.
I saw something like this and I wanted to try it myself, but we simply don't have the place for something like this in our current home.

A woman was looking at it and so, I had  to start telling her about it. Her comment was that she just didn't even know where she would start on something like this. And I had no advice because my thought was, 'I don't know, you just do.' 
I think that's part of the doer mentality. You just do. 
And I don't mean in a Nike kind of way. Or maybe I do. I do a lot of mental planning, but when the time comes to do something, I just do. I start with an end in mind most of the time, but how I get there is open for discussion. I've been working with my therapist on my becoming overwhelmed. Surely it has something to do with my process and how I work. It works for me, but at the same time, I freaks me out. Does that even make sense? Probably not, hence the therapy. But he has been having me recite "Do one thing, then do the next." So that's what I do. 
I do one thing and then do the next. Because that's what you do when you're a doer. 

And also, (completely unrelated to this post) at the Restore event they had a photo booth and Lauren and I got in there with cupcakes. I love this trio of photos. They make me smile.