I’m writing this at work. It’s dead quiet and I should be writing (and I did a little bit), but I’m having a therapy-type day. For those who don’t know, I’m messed up. I have so many issues and so many freaking demons and they’re all wrapped up and intertwined with eachother. It’s a hassle to say the least.
So usually when I’m having a tough time overcoming something I stop and take an analyzing journey into my messed up psyche. It usually takes 2 hours of digging to come up with the answer.
Todays dilemma: I realized that there are times when I really want to write but I’ll procrastinate on purpose. Not because I’m stuck or I’m bored, but because even though I want to write….I don’t.
Why?
Because I don’t want to finish my story.
WHY!?
Because I don’t want to have to let anybody read it.
…why?
BECAUSE I’M PARALYZED WITH FEAR!!!
Let me explain (the abridged non 2 hour version). My mom took care of giving me all these complexes. I have no self esteem, no self worth to speak of. Any dreams that I had before, she tainted (that includes my dreams of being an actress). And even though I’ve grown as a person, I just have a hard time believing in myself and my abilities.
Of all the dreams that I had, writing is the only one I have left, and it was the most important one, because I saw myself being a writer.
I know I’m good, I wouldn’t have won a writing contest in the 3rd grade if I wasn’t. My 5th and 6th grade teacher wouldn’t have read my essays out loud in class every week, and my English professor at college wouldn’t have locked me in her office for over an hour until I agreed to change my major from Sociology to English.
But what if I’m not good enough? Writing school essays and short little stories for my amusement are one thing, but writing stories for publication is another thing altogether.
I don’t want to fail at the only dream I have left.
I don’t want my mother to have been right when she said I was worthless and I wouldn’t amount to anything.
I don’t want to be one of those people that wake up and go to work and pay bills and that’s it. They’ll die and not had left a mark in the world.
I want to leave a mark, it doesn’t matter how big or small. I just want one person, just one person to have read one of my stories and acknowledged my existence. That my story helped them escape their life or that it helped them relax one summer. I would always be in that one persons life, no matter how many years it’s been, or that they forgot almost all the details about my story. They’ll remember that one day they read a nice story and enjoyed themselves, and they would smile. And I put that smile on their face.
If I fail, what will I do? What will there be left for me?
That’s why I’ve deleted and torn up all of the short stories I’ve ever written. Why I’m taking so long to finish this story. Because as long as I don’t submit anything, I’ll still have my dream. I can work towards that dream and never fail, because I’m not really moving forward.
It’s called self sabotage. :P LOL.
But now that I know what I’m doing I can fix it. I’m still scared shitless of failing, but I’ll still do what I have to do.
If you don’t try, you may not lose anything, but you won’t gain anything either.
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