My life is unfolding. There are ragged edges that have curled up over time and I am ironing them out, wondering which ones to simply tear away. In order to create change, I need to know what exists to change. What have I imagined into life, but really isn't so?
Most days I wake with an eagerness to quench my thirst for more. Although, I hope I can never accomplish and eliminate such a desire, I would like to at least try. Instead, I distract myself with mundane life because I probably have less chance failing at that. When there is extra time just aching in my day to bring me to a new level I allow it to be smothered out with my life's greatest debilitating critic.
There is a familiar self doubt which comes to rescue me from the possibility of embarrassment from pitiful failures. I once believed it to be my enemy, but over time, I have grown rather accustomed to it. I almost feel it deserves a name, an identity of its own. The term Stockholm syndrome comes to mind.
An anxious heart drumming first came over my body when I was 3 years old. Over the years it would randomly reappear with little to no warning. Each time the feeling overtook me more spreading from my body, to my mind, and eventually seeped into my very being. Now, every time I am ready to break out she whispers and I listen,
"Are you sure? You may fail. You will just further prove to yourself what you already know. It will hurt, do you want that? In fact, let me remind you that your doubt in your self is so strong you must check the heater and locks at least 5 more times before you can even leave the house. If you cannot even trust that the door is locked after the fourth time checking it, how can you believe in yourself with anything at all?"
Yes, I think she definitely needs a name so I can tell her directly to, "Shut the hell up."
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