I doubt my writing. I doubt not just the quality of writing, but my capability to write at all. And I do not just doubt it, but really.discredit it.
This morning, I notice my self-depreciation even more than I normally do because, yesterday, I was denied a certain writing job that I really wanted within a company for which I already work and with which I already have a good reputation. I didn’t even think I would get the job (because I think so lowly of myself) or that I stood a chance against the other competition, so when I received notice yesterday that they had passed on me in favor of someone “more seasoned,” I really just put it out of my mind. I pretty much said to myself, “See? I told you so. You’re not good enough, and this shouldn’t be a surprise at all.” I moved on to other things.
This morning, however, it was in my head. It was all I could think about when I first woke up, and it’s still in there, now. It’s actually quite disappointing, if not surprising. I hoped, in the back of my mind, for some validation from this. I’ve spent the last couple of years convincing myself that I have no talent for creative writing. That, I tell myself, is why I shouldn’t bother to write stories or novels any more. That, I tell myself, is why I struggle so much with my blog. Creating anything worth reading, I tell myself, is something I’m incapable of doing. However, interestingly enough, I’ve also spent the last couple years telling myself that, while I can’t create decent written works, I can actually edit other peoples’ creations, making them into things that are easier to read – that make more sense – that sound nicer. I can edit, I told myself, even if I can’t write.
This job came along, and it was a sort of editing job, and I thought, “Hey, that’s perfect for me!” Yet, even though I thought it was perfect, I knew I didn’t stand a chance. I hoped, wished, and dreamed that maybe, by some miracle, they would tell me I was good enough. They were blown away. I beat out the competition. I actually did have talent. I hoped while telling myself it wouldn’t happen, and it didn’t happen, and I told myself, “Well, duh!”
So I’ve been thinking about all these things this morning, and I’m mourning the lost opportunity for the “perfect” job. And you know what I’m thinking?
I’m thinking, “Enough is enough!”
Why am I so hard on myself? Why am I afraid to believe in myself? Why do I set myself up for failure? Why convince myself it’s not even worth trying?!
I love to write. I’ve been told, at least a couple different times, that I have some sort of talent for writing. And I am not going to take this rejection as an excuse to give up on myself! I am not going to take this as a sign that I’m as unworthy as I’ve been trying to convince myself I am. I am going to take this as a chance to start again. Write more. Take up story-telling again, and recommit to blogging. Why not? Even if I’m not good at it, practice can only help. It’s something I love and am passionate about, and I’m not going to give it up!
I’m going to stop beating myself up and telling myself I can’t write. I can write, and I will.