I've reached a dead-end in my manuscript. It's taking all my self-control to not delete everything from embarrassment. I spoke about this a bit in my last post, fear is my biggest weakness. The beauty (sarcasm) of being a former "gifted kid" is the intense fear of failure. Growing up, I excelled at everything I tried, and I did so immediately. My self-esteem was built on this success, this ability to be exceptional at anything I wanted. Unfortunately, once I began high school, and was able to take classes that would actually challenge me, I broke down. I couldn’t cope with my failures. (Getting a C on one math chapter.) Though I have made some progress in coping with this academically, I still struggle to maintain hobbies. I have abandoned Instagram accounts for drawing, collage journaling, and my dog. I am currently in the middle of seven different books, and it’s been months since I’ve moved the bookmarks in most of them. My bedroom is full of embroidery, calligraphy, and resin casting supplies. I’ve started saving them, because I don’t want to miss it if I ever come back to the hobby, like I have with writing. “Better to have it and not need it, than to need it and not have it.” is something my dad always says. I took that phrase to heart, and now my life is a funky eclectic mix of abandoned projects and dreams. For now. I’ve taken up embroidery on two different occasions, and I’m very glad that I never got rid of any of it like I did my writing. Drawing has been like an on-again, off-again boyfriend that those popular girls always seem to have throughout high school.
I don’t want to abandon my manuscript, I don’t want to delete the file and pretend it never happened out of embarrassment. I don’t want to take my notebooks again and crumple up a few pages at a time, throwing them away in various garbage cans throughout the house so that no one knew I had been writing, or that I was giving up. I don’t want to work in secret anymore, afraid of judgement, never daring enough to do something with my dreams.
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