The Poison of Self-Doubt

Those moments when we get buried in the drama of work, our personal lives, the demands of our creative projects, and our interactions with those in our lives, personal and professional, can wreak havoc on equilibrium. On our sense of stability. On our understanding of our place in the world and where we are going.

The unfortunate realities of corporate life mean that teammates and friends will come and go through our office spaces and that at any time, that meeting that pops up without an agenda could mean it's time to pack our own boxes. I feel I've aged at twice normal speed the last two years. It's soul-eroding. Especially when we are marginalized for doing our jobs, for trying to support our teams. Anxiety has become a standard part of my life.

Writing has always been how I make sense of my world,  both in how I feel (which is often complex and contradictory), and how I articulate my plan of action. It is my rudder and my outlet. I may never make a dime with it but I need it to ground me.

Sometimes, no matter how grounded we think we are, the earth shifts below our feet and all our fears rush to the surface as if we were thirteen again, standing in front of a hostile and disinterested class, completely unprepared. What if we really aren't good enough? Talented enough? Smart enough? What if we are wasting our time, our lover's time, our boss's time, our mentor's time? Might they be humoring us in person while secretly wishing we were better or more than we are?

I wouldn't have thought so, but it just take a little nudge to let doubt creep in. Once there, it grows unchecked and every movie plot, every mysterious meeting, every strange glance reinforces inadequacies whether they are imagined or not. Generally, I've been more self-assured than this, but there is a cumulative weight to consistent wear until even stone loses its definition.

Last week, an article came out about MFA programs from a former teacher attached to one. In it, the author argued a number of points which, if true, mean I'm doomed as a writer. As much as I'd like to think that my self confidence couldn't be shaken by some stranger's rambling, I can't help but remember the countless times where I've felt like a fraud, like a mistake had been made when I'd been selected, accepted, lauded, and so on. I think creative people are always secretly expecting the other shoe to drop, as if having our darkest fears realized is an inevitability. We may be more fragile than we appear. A link to to the article and a fiery response is below.

http://terribleminds.com/ramble/2015/03/01/an-open-letter-to-that-ex-mfa-creative-writing-teacher-dude/

Coincidentally, I had a conversation with a friend last week about there being two kinds of people - those who need others to do fail a bit in order to feel as they are successful, and those for whom the success of those around them is part of their own happiness and success. I have both types in my life as we all probably do. Fortunately, my MFA mentor could not be more supportive. I understand that it's his job to keep me motivated and producing pages, but his feedback always me feel worthy. It's a kindness that I don't take for granted.

So, at the risk of turning into one of those delusional movie characters who go to the closet to fetch their (figurative) pageant tiara and sash when they feel low, I try to remember the affirmations that I receive at least as much as I think about the criticisms. And I try not to underestimate the power of effort, of starting even when I might fall short, of risking my self when I am unsure, because inaction is the fastest way to fail.

And I have to trust those who love me.  I have to trust myself enough to try. If you are struggling too, know that even if we haven't met, I'm pulling for you in spirit. Get out there. I promise to be out there too.