Relax

Well hello! *gives a cheeky grin* It's a wonderful day!! Errrr...*looks at the time* Ok, yesterday was a wonderful day and I'm sure today will be too. It's sunny, the blue sky so clear, stretching into forever. I took a break today and did nothing. I indexed some census', read my book and generally futzed around. I was determined not to let my pain and writing ruin what little is left of my sanity. I'll step back up to the plate tomorrow with fresh eyes and attitude.

I realized some things about myself over the years as I healed from the abuse I survived. I have always been a perfectionist. Everything had to be perfect, had to look a certain way. I, of course, was never satisfied with anything I did. It was never good enough. As as having perfectionitis wasn't bad enough, my dad drilled into me, "If you're gonna do something, do it right the first time." I heard, "Don't you dare screw up and it better be perfect or I'll have to do it over for you!" Because of this, I was never satisfied with anything I did. I always criticized myself very harshly and hated the little imperfections I saw. I've been told time and time again by others that (insert writing, clay creation, bead jewelry) they can't see a dang thing wrong with it. It was awesome, pretty, etc. I tried to look at it objectively as I could. I still found my eyes drawn to those teensy weensy flaws. They were the reason I didn't want it seen by the public. Others would see it and tell me it sucked. After all, says that nasty little voice inside my head, the ones telling you it's perfect, awesome, etc, are your friends! Of course they are going to say that. They don't want to hurt your feelings.

So fear grasped me in its razor sharp claws, piercing my skin painfully when I sucked up enough courage to put my "thing" out there. To avoid this, I stayed still. I let fear hold me close while I simply stopped trying at all. I still wrote and did other things I love to do. It became a hobby, something I really liked to do. Until the lack of jobs came along, the struggle to make it each week, seeing the post about AC. I figured I would give it a shot.

I have and I find I love writing more than ever. I have things to say, people to educate. Then, fear steps in again. I look at my work and think it's not good enough, it sucks, I'm no good at this, no one wants to read what I'm writing. This grabbed me yesterday and I felt despair. Wanting to be successful at something. Doing something to make money from home when I had given up on ever finding anything. Needing to be a success, to jump in, get all these words and ideas out of my head. Hoping by the end of 6 months I'd be making a decent enough second income so Gil doesn't have to worry about getting another job. To hope by the end of one year I'm making more and steadily marching toward bringing in a full-time income all from the comfort of my couch.

I am still new to writing articles and for the web. I am scared I'm not that good after all. There's no way I'll succeed in bringing in a steady part-time income never mind a full-time one. I am turning to stare fear in the eye, spit in its eyes, scream at the top of my lungs as I break free of his relentless hold. I WILL succeed, I AM good and with time will get better. In time it will stop being a struggle as the words paint the picture I see in my head. I have to scream and say I can, I can, I can, to drown out what has held me back for way too long. I WILL NOT cower anymore as I have done for 39 years.