I feel like anyone who’s been following me this year will be dizzy from my back and forth; maybe they won’t be, but I am.
There’s been times where I’ve returned and announced that I’m, indeed, back. Then there’s been times I’ve ghosted you all for extensive amounts of time.
(I’ve been worse than a toxic partner and I’m sorry for that.)
Self-guilt holds me back.
The self-guilt that follows me about everything I do, every mistake I make, is eating this up and so I back away…
Maybe if I just don’t post – don’t try – maybe that’ll be better than failing?
Perhaps I’ll feel less like a burdening failure – as if it were ever that simple.
Now, you may be thinking “isn’t all this too serious?” and well… you’d be right if it really were as simple and uncomplicated as it seems.
Society weighs our worth by our productivity.
When you add that to the picture, it should become clearer…
Like many who can’t live up to that, it’s embedded the self-esteem of a blunt pencil into me.
My blog was one thing I could say “look what I’ve achieved” – be proud of (as much as I can be of something I’ve done, aha!) and stick one finger up at the judgement with.
Therefore, it’s hurt not to have it and the reason I haven’t hurts even more – it’s something my mind can blame me for legitimately and it likes that.
I have big ideas.
While it’s true this is a very rare available career option with my disabilities and health, I also adore writing and working to get pieces ready.
It’s something I’m really passionate about and, while it might take me longer than others, I greatly enjoy.
The truth is, I want to do this for a career and I can only do that if I don’t keep vanishing.
I have so many ideas for blog posts and articles and how I generally want this place to be. In fact, I have so many pieces written – whether finished or parts needing to be woven together.
I need to start having confidence.
One of my worst habits is writing things and not having the confidence to push them further; including to prepare them for publication.
In my drafts, I’ve written about some big topics: there’s a collection of ideas about the loneliness that comes with chronic illness; an essay on how the term “brave” is complicated with disability and all sorts of poems about mental illness, chronic illness, disability and queerness.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m as proud as I can be about them (again self-pride is… complicated) but I have niggles of doubt and, so, I don’t post them.
I tell myself I’m not “good enough.”
There’s tears in my eyes as I write this part and, at the same time, I feel stupid for it.
I was (don’t ask why I’m not still) in therapy for years, dealing with these things so I feel like I should be “over it” by now.
I know that’s far from the truth – I wonder if it’s part of my self-esteem to not think I’m doing “well enough” with that either.
No matter what, I’ve been told right from young I’m not good enough by the world at large and that definitely reflects itself in my work.
I write but I don’t post.
As I’ve always said, writing is my therapy and I’ll write until the day I can’t – even if it’s just two sentences here and a few words there.
In fact, I remember us finding an old notebook of mine and, although illegible, it showed how I’d always used writing – even before my letters looked like any alphabet.
There’s poems, stories and rants on pieces of paper from various points in my life and there’s some only god could know what they are.
Begging to be heard.
When my speech failed me (which, with speech difficulties and brain fog, was/is often), I turned to writing to get my voice heard.
Even in my medical notes, there’s a handwritten rant (with its text getting bigger and bigger due to my hand pain) from when I was 10 or 11.
It illustrates how little I felt heard and, after gaining my approval, my Mum sent it to everyone who it was appropriate to – including my school and GP.
I continue to write, I just don’t post.
Even though I don’t truly want to, I’ve just been keeping my work as drafts – even when they’re complete – because I don’t have that confidence.
I tell myself “what right do I have to discuss XYZ when there’s writers out there way better than me with much bigger voices?”
Then that becomes “I keep ghosting the platform I do have, what right do I have to talk about XYZ when I’m so bad at this?”
I need to stop this cycle.
I feel trapped and there’s only one way to break free of the cycle that locks me in chains: to fight the fears and self-criticism and just post.
It’s gonna be far from easy and there will be times I slip but I’m tired of the shackles I’m placing on myself. I’ve got so many already, I need to stop adding to them.
Of course, I don’t know how that will look like or how long it’ll take or how many setbacks there will be. But I do know that I’m determined to not let my lack of esteem keep holding me back.
Lots of Love,
& Big Gentle Hugs,
Tig xx
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