moving picture.

A long time ago, I imagined a picture of what my life should become. It’s mostly unrealistic and unachievable, and whenever my real life veers from this preconception (which is constantly), I view it as a failure. And I focus on those failures so intently that I’ve grown blind to my successes. This, of course, is ridiculous.

I’ve created a situation where success is impossible, and I punish myself for failing to achieve it. I would never put this kind of pressure on someone else. Why do I do it to myself?

If I dare come close to accomplishing any small part of the magic picture, I derail myself. It’s like I want to fail… like I expect to fail… like I force myself to fail. And if I do manage to make part of the picture real, I devalue that piece. Must have been too easy. Everyone must be able to do this if I did it. So I turn that into a failure, too. God, is failure my comfort zone?

I insist that external forces throughout my life have landed me in this place – school, work, family, bad luck, genetics. I’ve mastered creative blame. I must be fucking amazing because nothing is ever my fault. I have thousands of excuses ranging from semi-valid to just plain ridiculous. But I know the truth… the blame is mine.

My dreams don’t come true because I don’t believe they will come true. I don’t believe I deserve them. If I don’t act a certain way or look a certain way, I cannot be worthy of friendship… of success… of love. Instead of worrying what others think of me, I should be thinking, “Here I am. This is me. Love me or don’t.

Instead, I agonize over every decision, worrying what this person or that person will think of me and my life. I feel judged for my every action (or inaction). And I am being judged – but only by me. Where do we learn to be relentlessly hard on ourselves? I know I’m not the only one. I’ve read countless diatribes while procrastinating… while searching for distractions so I can avoid doing anything at which I may fail.

Even this blog – I spend far too much time worrying about how my words will be received. Seriously. I haven’t even been doing this long enough to have readership in double digits! Hey, if you’re reading this, I love and appreciate you. And I should just be me. Not who I think the universe wants me to be. I magically write with abandon when it’s for my eyes only. The moment I know someone else is going to read my words, however, I edit myself, second guess myself, talk myself into a pool of self-deprecation and self-loathing. My talent or ability is not the issue. Pretending to be someone other than who I truly am – that’s the issue.

I must stop fighting myself. ‘Cause I’m pretty fucking cool. Flaws and foul language, opinions and passion, humor and heartbreak, rules or no rules. I should write like it’s just for me… all the time.

This shall be my new magic picture. A moving, changing, evolving picture. As it should be.

About what sandra thinks

Sandra is a writer, sometimes blogger, poet, artist, emotional disaster. She thinks far too much and sleeps far too little. Sandra lives in the Northeastern U.S. but dreams of an oceanfront home in Italy, but she would settle for a non-oceanfront home in Italy. She loves books, brutal honesty, coffee, and the color black. She hates insincerity, beer, whipped cream, and facebook. And she is uncomfortable talking about herself in the third person.
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3 Responses to moving picture.

  1. I think your honesty is compelling. You should write with abandon more often.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Pingback: weekly perk. #1 | what sandra thinks

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