I just found this. I wrote it the day I decided to finally write my memoir.
I am so afraid of blowing this opportunity.
I am afraid I am too old.
I am afraid I am too tired.
I am afraid I will never finish.
I am afraid I will finish and it will suck.
I am afraid I suck.
I am afraid I will finish and it will be really good.
But no one will know it.
Or everyone will know it and I will get a book deal and then a series deal and I will write for a living and love it.
If that happens I am afraid I will look back on all the wasted years and feel sad at all the time I didn’t write.
I hate this.
3 thoughts on “Call it anxiety. Call it fear. Whatever you call it, it sucks.”
I think deep down we all feel the same way some of the time. especially as we age.
My hat is off to you for even taking on this project.
You are brave!
One day I would like to write a book. I just wish I had kept a journal – it’s going to be hard to remember everything.
I kept a journal of sorts when I was at Bradshaw, as well as cards and letters from fellow patients. And I was able to get my charts and records from the hospital. But it’s true that remembering “everything” seems daunting. I am approaching this from the perspective of remembering what I can. The story I am telling is my truth and, because it’s a memoir and not an autobiography, I am trying to convey my experience as a snapshot in a particular place and time, rather than a literal transcript of my life. Plus, you’d be surprised how much comes back to you when you begin to actually write. I say go for it!
“I can’t comment. Other than she’s right. I was there. And….what has it changed? Really?”
I’m not alive and breathing because of the therapy. I’m alive and breathing and have had a pretty decent life because she was there.. .