I once had a chance to do something so cool, and amazing, and pretty much totally dream fulfilling, but I messed it up. I actually had a couple chances like that. And each time I forked it up. Not because I couldn't do it- whatever it was- but because I didn't even really try.
See, I'm convinced that even if I did try, I'd fail. Spectacularly, with pointing and laughing and humiliation. So one by one I've cut myself off from my dreams. All because I'm scared.
Scared I've picked the wrong career, scared I'm not smart enough to compete, scared I'll change my mind in ten weeks or months or years and have wasted all that time. Heck, I'm scared people will realize what a wimp I am, all shattered and lost. I'm even afraid to get in a relationship because I know that in 6 months or a year I'm going to be moving on and I don't think anyone could care enough for me to tag along.
So it should come as no real surprise that I'm afraid to write a simple little 200 word fluff piece. It's all that stands between me and work that, while not my dream, I wouldn't mind. Work that could pay my bills, if I did enough of it. 200 piddly words that probably won't even be read by more than one or two people.
All while I drop my big dark secrets all over the internet where anyone could find them.
There's a part of my brain that works right. It tells me I'm smart, and capable, and that I can write, or science, or travel, or love. It even tells me I need to gain a couple pounds, but that I look damned good anyway.
The rest of my brain, though? It's all about terror. I'm too fat, or too thin. I'll be blind before I figure out what I want. I only think I'm smart enough to write or succeed at school, I'm really near illiterate and unable to do even the simplest of things. I'm worthless, and someone is going to figure it out. I don't like that part of my brain.
The only time the bad brain isn't in control is when I've had a drink, or I'm running a fever, or it's been so long since I've slept that the tv talks back to me. Of course, sleep is tough to avoid, I hate being sick, and I'm more afraid of becoming an alcoholic than I am of being a big scared failure.
Is it any shock that the bad part of my brain shouts louder? Even knowing I should ignore it... it's still damned loud.
I just wish I could shut it off long enough to write that first piece.
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