Shortly after I started blogging/journalling more than five years ago, I've held onto the assumption that if only I could understand my self enough to write about my situation accurately and comprehensively, it'd make dealing with it, if not exactly easy, at least seem possible. A worthy enough goal.
And so, many times when I would feel sad and frustrated and clueless, I'd dutifully attempt to chronicle my thoughts on whatever issues happened to be bothering me presently. I have to say, this resulted in some of my most cringe-worthy journal entries. Reading the earnest spoutings of a naive earlier self is embarrassing, to say the least.
However, while understanding is part of the battle, it's not really the part that I have the most trouble with. I'm too good at rationalizing. It's too easy for me to get caught up in concocting explanations for all the different aspects of the situation, without getting any closer to a resolution. In pessimistic moods, I can overthink and dwell on the perceived consequences of failure even before taking any action.
I suppose writing this now is mostly just more of the same, but somehow I have to believe that I know better know, hah! (Obvious spoiler: No, I don't.)
Ever since I've been self-aware enough to doubt and second-guess, I've been frustrated with my lack of motivation. Sure, I can understand, or at least drum up reason upon reason, why I should be doing something, but the punch, the visceral feeling of desire has rarely been there. All the reasons for all the different things convince me of nothing but my own confusion. No changes occur. I continue to drift, holding down a vague dissatisfaction.
“But knowing what I don’t want to do doesn’t help me figure out what I do want to do. I could do just about anything if somebody made me. But I don’t have an image of the one thing I really want to do. That’s my problem now. I can’t find the image.” - Toru Okada, protagonist of Haruki Murakami's The Wind-up Bird Chronicle
Sometimes it scares me to think that this is true for me as well. That I could do just about anything if somebody made me. What would that make me, who would I be then? Other times, it just gives me a feeling of peace, thinking that whatever happens, I'll be able to deal. Blissful passivity.
Should I be smacking myself in the face?
When there's a will, there's a way. What do you do when you can see many different ways, but really can't conjure the will to follow any of them? It's easy to say, try them on, and see what fits, but again, where is the will? As I see it, I can generate possibilities rationally, but seemingly lack the capability to become emotionally invested in any of them, to effectively and consistently bridge the gap between intention and action.
I've been on a self-help kick lately, and, I've got to say, that stuff isn't quite as bad as it used to seem to me. A lot of it is useless fluff, to be sure, but there are genuine insights to be had. And sure, maybe a lot of it is common sense. But as I continue to explore the personal development literature, I get the feeling that these guys are saying essentially the same things not because these things are trivial, but precisely because they're true. But it's hard to swallow common sense when it's coming from someone else, and it's easy to fool ourselves and say, yeah, yeah, we understand all that - even though we're not really living as if we do. And so they have to repeat themselves until we really really get it.
Someone just told me, hey, you're just afraid of failure because your fragile pride can't handle it. I have to say that I agree. I've never had to deal with real failure before, perhaps because I've so assiduously avoided even the slightest risk of it. Consciously or unconsciously, sometimes I tend to be too focused on failure to the point of paralysis, complacency, mediocrity.
But, yes, there is no success without failure. I won't develop as a person without making mistakes. My challenge is to get up my courage, and learn to deal with failure while focusing my thoughts on success. (Actually, the more immediate challenge is to convince myself. But we already knew that.)
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