"Almost every time somebody gives me a present,it ends up making me sad." Catcher in the Rye
A kind gesture. A smile. Gentle words. A thoughtful present. It doesn't matter what it was, I have always experienced a enormous sense of sadness after someone is kind to me. My brain has always told me that I'm not worthy of such compassion.
Maybe not always. I remember (or I think I remember) my sixth grade teacher telling me that she loved my stories and that I should be a writer. What did I do? I abandoned fiction and wrote newspaper style stories until I graduated from high school. Then, except for papers, I stopped writing completely. I started again when I was 40.
Why?
If I could answer that question, I would drastically be happier on a daily basis.
Instead, I battle with it through meditation and that seems to help quite a bit. Where I used to just spiral down until I was stuck in the muck, I can now catch myself before I'm too far gone.
This demon critic still gets in my way. Right now, I'm ready to start sending out my completed manuscript, but I feel apprehension. I'm now consumed by thoughts designed to stop me. Whenever I start to research agents or publishers, my brain tells me, "Come on, now. You know that no one wants to read your garbage. Just stop and go bake something. You make good cookies."
That apprehension is probably normal. It certainly is normal in my day-to-day experience. It's exhausting to have to fight constantly with my own brain. I don't understand people, like the current president, who never question themselves. Maybe that is an illness that is the polar opposite of mine.
