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500 Words: Frustration

July 19th, 2009


I’m really frustrated with myself.

I had two dreams growing up.   Two.

One was to be a lawyer.  Even in the late eighties and early nineties, when my dream began to develop, the world was so fucked up that I, a child between the ages of six and sixteen, could see it and wanted to fix it.  And I thought being a lawyer would give me the perfect opportunity. Because, to me, a lawyer isn’t much different from a salesman.  They’re both selling their product.  A lawyer’s product just happens to be their client.

My other dream was to be a writer.  Change the world with my writing.  Help MJ heal the world.

That used to be my favorite song.

I knew writing would never pay the bills.  I assumed I’d never be famous.  I was pretty sure I’d never be rich.   But I wanted to write. Even if that part of me was never noticed until after I died like so many artists who have gone before me.

I’m not sure when it started.  The decline in my self esteem.  The wholehearted belief that I would never amount to anything.  I don’t know what caused it or how it managed to get so damn big.

I know I never used to talk about it.  Would pretend I loved myself too much so I didn’t have to face the fact that, in reality, I hated myself so much I couldn’t even bring myself to do the things I love.  And I would just go on unable to look myself in the mirror.

It’s translated into the things I know I’m good at.  Writing and debate.  Most of the time, I won’t do either anymore if I can avoid it.  And I’ll blame it on everything under the sun to take the blame off my own shoulders.

In reality, though, it’s me.  I don’t like the way something sounds and, rather than face the fact that I need to start over, I just let it sit there.  Pretending I’ll eventually change my mind about it and finish it.

I allow myself to get distracted.   I know that if I open Firefox or TweetDeck or any of the other millions of distractions I’ve stuffed into this little (by current standards) desktop computer, I will not get anything done.  I will stare blankly at the empty page for about five minutes, say to hell with it and move on to something else.  Fetlife or Twitter or some Reflexive game.

I’m frustrated with myself because I’ve allowed my distractions and self loathing to become who I am.

Right now, the only thing I’m not allowed to do, with regard to my dreams, is go back to school.  And the reason is simple.  We can’t afford it.  I’m willing to bet that if I could get financial aid and grants and scholarships to cover all of it, I’d be allowed to go back to school.  Even if it meant going through an online school so that I’m home to take care of Master when He needs me.  With my anxiety level what it is these days, taking courses online would probably be better for me anyway.

So what’s stopping me?

Me.  My overwhelming self-loathing.

It’s time to be done with that.

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