Have you ever stood on the edge of a sidewalk, maybe toes dangling a little bit, wondering if now was the moment you should cross.
Maybe you are wondering if you should dodge and weave traffic; taking a risk to get to whatever treasure awaits you at the other side of the street.
Or maybe doubting your ability to maneuver the potential, or even real, influx of traffic?
Or maybe, you regress somehow to childhood…or maybe even when you were a kid, and you really wanted to cross the street, but you couldn’t decide if you should take the risk and all the potential consequences, ranging from punishment to death, and just cross the street alone.
Or maybe, as you grew older, you stand and wait at the cross walk, waiting and waiting until the red hand stops flashing and the little “go” green man gives you permission to cross.
I feel like I’m standing at the edge of the curb.
And even though I keep getting this energetic momentum telling me to haul ass across the street, I barely waver, maybe leaning forward in response to the flush of energy…giving me a sense of hope in my false start and another disappointing flash of instability.
I’m not sure what I’m waiting for.
And, perhaps, even more importantly, I’m not quite sure what is waiting for me at the other side of the road.
My guess is that I sit and wait…and wonder…because of fear.
Fear of the unknown.
Fear of the consequences of another bad choice.
Probably even fear of failure.
No.
Probably mostly a fear of failure.
Rationally and logically, I know that the ONLY answer is to cross.
But, emotionally, I have this Fear (yes! Capital “F” here) that is keeping my feet glued to the cement that separates me from the road.
And perhaps that is why my productivity has come to a pretty abrupt stop.
And it all hinges on writing.
I have the opportunity to attend three writing “workshops” so to speak – yet, I won’t sign up.
I have two, potentially three, academic conferences that have accepted my work to be presented – yet, I won’t register or confirm.
I have open doors and I am afraid to pass through them.
And perhaps, even worse, I can’t seem to write anything that would need to be prepared for any of them either.
I sit and my computer and stare.
Crack my neck and my knuckles and my back.
Spend some time on my head or upside down (right?! Who does that?! It is supposed to stimulate you and get you thinking and energized again).
And then sit and stare all over again.
I did sit down and power(ish) through a page of changes I needed to make in my dissertation proposal the other day – until I hit some point and thought, “What the fuck was I talking about again?!” and had to go and basically re-create my creations so they were relevant.
But – even that should have been done and turned back in a week ago.
Even on this little writing space, I literally have started EIGHT posts that have been left for forgotten long before they have had a chance to come to life.
Everything is neglected.
Workshops.
Conferences.
Book proposals.
Dissertation.
Blog.
Even the family blog I keep of my kids – all pushed to the back-burner for another life.
I know, truly, that I just need to move forward.
As one of my mostest favorite authors would say, I just need to “write like a motherfucker.”
I have nothing to lose.
Well…I guess I have many opportunities that might not (i.e. won’t) knock on my door again if I don’t take advantage of them….so, yeah…I guess I have a lot to lose.
But, I’m afraid of failing.
And in looking at my Little Life’s History, the only important thing that i have ever ‘failed’ at was being married.
And that Failure (again, with a capital F) has wrecked havoc on my world….and that of my kids.
I don’t want to perpetuate the nightmare of Failure.
The consequences of that failure have infiltrated even the once most mundane corners of my life.
Fear of failure is a big one.
I’m not a Writer.
I write stuff.
So – it seems a tiny bit fraudulent to pretend I’m a Writer and pretentious to attend workshops and present research and follow through on book ideas and contributor-ships, when at the end of the day, I’m not a Writer.
I am just a person who writes stuff.
So – it’s kinda a double whammy here.
1) a HUGE fear of failure.
2) a good chance I will fail because I’m not what I’ve been “offered” to be
(ummm…does that even make sense?)
So – taking those together…crossing the street to the land of Writer is horribly HORRIBLY scary.
I’m afraid of the implications and the consequences of failing. And more importantly, I am not quite sure that I am “legit” enough to make it across to the other side…let alone survive once I get there.
Maybe it is another identity crisis.
The last one was from “married” to “divorced” – and now that I have made peace with that…the new crisis is that of professional existence.
Who am I?
And, Can I?
I don’t know.
And my fear is keeping me from finding out.
And although, again, logically, I know this is a ridiculous fear; irrational at best.
But – it is a fear that is sitting heavily on my spirit.
it is sitting so heavily, in fact, that I’ve become frozen under the weight.
Even finishing this silly blog post has taken me days because I can’t figure out what to say, or how to say.
I can’t even decide if what I’m saying is worth say.
The downward spiral.
Not nearly as much fun as the swirly slide at the park I enjoyed as a kid.
So.
There we have it.
My newest, greatest fear.
Fear of trying to become something that I have always wanted to be, but have never pursued.
Fear of failing…mainly because failing is painful.
And after the last two years of pain, I’m tired of hurting.
But, knowing me.
I’ll write.
And I’ll write all the academic stuff that I am apparently quite good at.
And I’ll write stuff in the Candy Jar becasue it is a great place to get my “sailor talk” on and a place to take a deep breath of life.
And I’ll write.
Slowly.
The books and articles and journals that one day might turn into something meaningful.
Yet, I’ll write without pressure and expectation.
And really, since I have the “potty mouth” writer of the year thing happening,
I’ll write just the way Cheryl Stayed suggested,
I’ll write like a MotherFucker and see what the Fuck happens.
And on that note.
End.
So, just what side of you ass should I kick you in? The right? The left? Or just dead in the middle?
(paraphrasing from Hot Dog the Movie)
Really my friend, I get it I do, but you are not defined by what others (the deadbeat azzhat of a soon to be ex) said you were and is still saying you are. You are not defined by what a bunch of tenured and useless fools are trying to make you. You are not defined by what a bunch of know-nothing administrators want you to be.
You can only be defined by your dreams and hopes for the future you want for you and your children. You are brilliant. You are strong. You are resilient. You have heart and soul and wings.
Breath, spread your wings and soar.
Once again, you have really amazing things to say about me that perhaps I don’t totally deserve. But- I probably do need an ass kicking and I am only defined by my dreams and all that good stuff. I guess the challenge is being able to remember that and not let fear get in the way and give it a try. I guess I’ll take a deep breath and jump…hopefully I have wings to catch me.
What are you thinking! Just do it! All of it! You won’t fail. You can’t. Everything happends for a reason and so once you “don’t fail” that reason will show. Would you tell the chickens to ignore somthing that was given to them because they are scafred. You got this! And if valintine will kick the right side of your ass I will kick the left!
Haha…a tag team ass kicking. That would be funny except I kinda think that you and Val actually WOULD do it, so it freaks me out a tiny bit.
And you are right. I just need to do it. Sit and write and write some more. Register, attend, be afraid and realize that nothing bad happens. Everything does happen for a reason…doors open for a reason. NOw isn’t the time to freak out…its time to test new waters and see what’s up. Plus…if I am swimming away, perhaps I can dodge you and Val
Thank you, again, for your support!
I adore this post. I didn’t want to comment, but realized failure to comment only crystallizes MY fears. I’m not a writer—at all! I’m just a girl who wanted to reach people and share hope. Now I find myself surrounded by academics and petrified to reply. I fret over word placement and punctuation. My solution: I may be a failure in the world of journalism, but I’m successful at what I set out to do and that was help people traveling the same path. So, for whatever you haven’t completed there’s still NOW. Know that you helped this one girl step into her writing (if you want to call it that). You’d be robbing the world of you if you didn’t step off the curb. Who cares what’s over there. You figured it out once before and you’ll figure it out again. That’s what you taught me. Your not-so-secret admirer.
awww….thank you
And the fact that you are seemingly using my own logic against me (1) scares me because I know I’m never wrong – which means I need to cross the street and (2) what I am writing actually isn’t hitting a wall without making a difference to someone first. Wow. I’m glad we found each other…I’ll move forward and you keep writing too
Eventually, I guess it will all make sense.
In all the ass kicking above, I feel like you know what sort of spanking I would deliver. There is an ocean of difference between writers and authors. Anybody with a blog can be a writer. You are an author in the making. I have always known it. And I know a thing or seven about it.
Stop listening to the haters. Stop nagging yourself. I have three chickens on my side who say you are not a failure. If you are into beating yourself up, do it with yoga and running…not self-flagellation for events as yet not occurred. You only fail if you do not try.
Love and faith in you,
FBM.
Hahaha…I think that out of all the outlined ass-kicking threatened in this stream of comments, your spanking is the one of I fear the most.
The word “author” is scary. It seems grown up. And thankyou for having faith in my “author in the making-ness” – I think you always really have seen it or you wouldn’t have latched on to reading my blog so quickly and for so long, teaching me some important ‘stuff’ as my Fairy Blog Mother. I am not going to fail on this one. I’ll pull myself together and get to work. I’ll start with the easy stuff (conference papers), sign up for the workshops, power through my dissertation and then get to work on some of those books we have talked about. I’m going to make this happen…as you have all kinda said, I have no reason not to.
You all are the BEST.
Thank you, FBM <3
See, you do listen to my blog posts. Ride the success of the easy things to bolster your confidence for the more difficult ones. You have support from around the globe. And lots of love <3 You can do this. xxx
So familiar, that moment (those moments) of indecision and fear. What if they find out I’m not really… an artist (for me). What if I’m really NOT!?!? Oh woe is me!
And yet my intelligence tells me what’s on the other side won’t really exist until I get there to hlep create it and interact with it. That my reality IS what I make of it. Sure looks good on paper, eh!?!?!
I like the way you have almost bulleted this down to the bare bones of the issue. You are a good writer, a wonderful author in the making and already a success in many more ways than you may acknowledge!
No flagellation from me –
seems you’re getting enough of that already…
Wow. And thank you! And I’m almost at a loss for words. The whole idea of the other side not existing until I actually interact with it is a pretty powerful idea.
I’m going to hang on to that and must it around my brain for a bit.
And again…thanks!!!
Pingback: Why Don’t We Do On To Others | Taking Candy From A Baby