Tonight I realized how I was getting in my own way. The goals and dreams I have been focused on are as unachievable as ever because I have subconsciously created patterns that act as a subterfuge for my own desires. Even more brilliantly (way to go Lauren), I have convinced myself that I am moving toward them. I have created my own carrot on a stick. And acted a fool.
Don’t worry, I don’t say any of that with anger or judgment. It’s more fascinating than anything. And I certainly don’t mean that I have interfered with all of my goals and dreams. Really, right now, I’m talking about just one.
I’m talking about my career. I have a strong pull to create something, to give, to start something new. It isn’t exactly clear how, or what, but I know I am drawn toward being my own boss. My self-deprecating narratives (which have been so helpful at protecting me from disappointment and failure in the past) aren’t really serving me anymore. And I see that. They don’t hold as much power over me as they used to, and realizing that is empowering and intoxicating. I am riding the high of self-actualization. Almost.
Yet I spend more time in a fantasy career than in taking steps toward actually creating something. Why?
I am afraid. I am afraid that my voice won’t matter, that it won’t be interesting, that whatever I create and give to the world will be rejected, that I won’t be good enough.
Okay, so those self-deprecating narratives are still in place. They’ve just created some new defenses of their own. One being: inaction.
Sloth. Laziness. Distraction. Exhaustion.
Rather than doing the things that I should be doing in order to move toward my goal, I distract. Hours of mindless television or surfing the internet, getting sucked down into a rabbit hole of mediocre clickbait articles that I am marginally interested in. Checking my work email again, even though I know it could all wait until tomorrow and I don’t even want to get sucked into thoughts of work anyway. Getting caught up in house projects that were never that important to me in the first place.
Maybe all of this distraction is just a form of procrastination. Structured procrastination, that is. Putting off all of the things I don’t want to do until something else comes up that I want to do even less.
But really, as long as fear and self-doubt are in the driver seat, I will never take action that exposes me to risk. To vulnerability. To the possibility of a public failure. I will never take that one small step in the direction of my dreams if the footing isn’t solid, or the path isn’t safe.
But I have been hearing a persistent drumming in my soul lately, and I have felt a pull. It is time to write, with risk. It is time to fumble, but act. So here I am.
Eat that carrot.