It is at the deepest part of me, that I often find myself the most frustrated.
There are certain things, that I never seem to succeed at.
No matter how much I tell myself that, “this time is different.”
I am so good at starting things… good at planning…good at seeing what I want and taking the initial steps to make it happen. The issue lies – in sticking with it.
I don’t remember the last time I stuck with anything.
I just wanted this time to be different.
Writing this book was supposed to be different. Writing this book was supposed to be the thing that finally broke through my persistent procrastination. The thing that was so life-altering important to me, that giving up on it would not even be an option.
But I can already feel myself doing it.
I wrote my 1,667 words for the first two days. Two days – and since then? I’ve managed a total of maybe three days where i’ve written. And it’s been word-vomit at best.
So here I sit, at day 12 of my novel-writing… with 8,327 words. How many am I supposed to have by now? 20,004.
Twenty Thousand words. I am not even half way to being where I need to be.
Do you know what that makes me feel like?
A total and complete failure.
And I should know the feeling well. This is probably the thousandth thing that i’ve started… and not finished. Not even mildly gotten half way through before I called it quits.
I want to say that I quit at trying.
I want to say, why do I even allow myself to think I can complete something.
I want to tell myself that this dream, just like every other one i’ve had – is pointless, stupid, and going to go nowhere.
I want to believe the voices in my head that tell me i’m not worth the effort it would take to finish this.
But I can’t.
Unfortunately with age,
I’ve grown to respect and care for myself
too much to believe such non-sense.
I know that I’m worth a life well-lived.
I know that my dreams are immeasurably valuable.
I know that one day, regardless all my short-comings
I will both experience and achieve the greatness I am destined for.
I’ve just realized,
that had I not even attempted to write this book
to follow this dream…
That by day 12 of November – I’d have written zero words.
I may not be living up to my predetermined standards,
but in just attempting to attempt something
I’ve done more than ever would have.
And for now
that is enough
to make me realize
that I am not a failure.
in trying alone
I’m already succeeding.