I am sitting down to write this with the inescapable need to write with little to no idea what will end up on the page.
The Artist.
I got some fresh air this morning, and the views were beautiful on my drive. On days when I am prompted to leave the house in the morning and the skies are clear. When I see the trees, hills, and mountains in the distance my mind runs wild with possibility. It's a wonderful thing and every time I experience it, I wonder why I don't get out more! On my drive back home this morning, I was thinking of taking this same drive a year ago. A year ago, those drives were a regular occurrence for me, and I spent many return journeys crying. First, I thought, 'Wow, look how far I've come. Look how much has changed in a year.'
The Critic.
Then, I started to spiral a little. That oh so reliable negative inner voice cropped up. 'Really? How far have I come? What do I have to show for almost a year?'.
It's Monday. What did I do this weekend? Not enough, obviously. Spent the day at the beach, that's nice but what is that doing for my future? How is that productive? My house is a mess. I could have spent that time cleaning, or writing, or... And what about my writing? Sure, last year at this time I was nowhere near even entertaining the possibility that my story ideas could be anything, but now what are they? How far have I come? I'm not a published author. I wrote 10,000 words last week, but that was last week. What about this week? A thousand words at best and what about all the previous weeks since I decided to do this? I have 31,223 words to show for it. 31,223, that’s it and it’s no book.
Great! I'm not crying on my drive home. I can identify my emotions and feel them like an average human being. I'm feeling closer to my loved ones. I'm accepting of myself and getting less scared every day about showing my true self to the world.
Reading that back, reminding myself of those successes, it should feel so much better than it does. Then, of course I get down on myself for being down on myself. And the spiral continues. The past starts seeping in, all the things I haven't done, all the time I wasted not knowing myself, and not letting the people around me know me either. What is the point of trying when it never feels like enough?
The Message.
I have a nervous creative energy today. I feel blocked, hopeless, and unsure of everything. I want to write. I want to create. But I have tunnel vision. All I can see today is the end goal, how insurmountable it seems and all the obstacles in the way.
So I think I am figuring something out now while writing this. Letting this out, this fear, this imposter syndrome monster, asking me who I think I am.
I am strong.
I am capable.
I am afraid! But I'm going to do it anyway.
Part of my journey has been relearning how to feel and accept what I'm feeling. I spent so many years suppressing my own needs, wants, and emotions that I didn't even know what they were anymore. If you can relate, for me journaling helps. I find I don't really know what I'm feeling until I write it down and it's literally staring me in the face!
Today's discovery I am making with an audience (if anyone's reading this that is) and I hope my spiral helps you navigate your own! I am afraid. Of what? Not being good enough. That I will try my absolute best and it will fall short. Maybe my fear is founded but I know what it's like to live a life that is for everyone but yourself. Hiding behind the needs of the people you love is no way to live, at least for me, not anymore. And the people that love me are happy about it!
It's Monday, I'm tired and my inner critic is loud today but I'm still here and so are you!
The Quote.
In the words of Murderbot, 'I panic all the time, you just can't see it.'
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