You can’t be so afraid of failure that you never try anything. My own fear of failure has been holding me back for so long. I think it’s also been convincing me that I’m lazy. The thing is, I really do want to do things. I want to draw and write and sew and make linocut prints and cook and garden and learn and just generally expand my horizons. I want to grow, to improve.
Unfortunately, I frequently feel like I can’t possibly put pen to paper because whatever I do won’t be good enough. Good enough for other people or for the algorithms or even for myself. So I simply don’t. And then I wait for the feeling to pass, to get out of my way, before I start. I’ve basically become complacent in my own life, hanging on the monkey bars and slowly losing my grip. Not moving forward or backward or even falling to the ground – just hanging.
In the end, my biggest risk of failure will be in all of the missed opportunities. To look back at this time and realize that not trying, not experimenting, was the biggest failure of my life. Hopefully we won’t get that far though. This week, I will do something every day. I will draw or write or… make rice milk (that’s what I did yesterday). For now, the point is really just to do something, it’s not for anyone else but me, it’s just to try to get over the fear of taking the first step.
Still, along the way I suppose it won’t hurt to also take a closer look at the feelings that come up during the process. To notice the different urges that come up and what they may signify.
For instance, I got to this point in a drawing and then I really wanted to stop. It’s just a sketch, it won’t look better if I keep going. But also, who cares if it will look better or worse? Here comes again the self-accusation that I’m just lazy. Am I not willing to put in more time than that? Then I need to remind myself that the point was to do something for a short, sustainable amount of time. For now.
I’m happy that I did it, that I took the time to draw without focusing too much on a greater purpose. I get caught up in the “greater purpose” of most things and am rewarded for that effort only with crippling anxiety. Sometimes I just need to do what’s good for me, and just enjoy the smaller moments more. Eventually, they will add up to something greater, but first I just have to nurture them and myself.
This just reminded me of a book that my mom read one time when I was younger. I remember seeing it on her bedside table. Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff (And It’s All Small Stuff). Or something like that. Maybe it’s an oversimplification, there are some big problems in the world. But sometimes it’s ok to just take care of myself and not worry about what it all means.