The Ache

This is not where I thought I would be.

I am a fortunate person, in general. I fully recognize that. But, at thirty, I am not happy with where I am in my life.

It is within my power to change my circumstances, but it is so very hard. When it feels like I have the ability to take a step forward, I hesitate, or freeze entirely. Sometimes I even go backward. I know that I have so much time, but most days, it still feels like I’m watching sand slip through an hourglass while I remain unchanged, and unhappy.

I am a prime example of procrastination, and, although some of it – you know, like cleaning my apartment, doing menial chores, getting my mail, scheduling appointments, etc – is laziness based, I’ve realized that the rest is fear based. Which isn’t much better, nor is it an excuse. And it’s so counterproductive.

Why have I not written more these past few years? I’m afraid no one wants to read it.

Why have I not tried querying again? I’m afraid of the rejection.

Why do I not share a large portion of my writing with others? I’m afraid it isn’t good enough. And even when people tell me they like it, I assume they’re just telling me that to make me feel better.

Why have I not left the job I’ve been in for the last thirteen years? It’s all I know, and I’m afraid that I’m not good at anything else, even though it sucks the literal joy out of my life.

And so on, and so forth. Which, ultimately, leads to me doing nothing. My word documents collect dust, and sit untouched for months. And it’s my passion. I love writing. I’m just terrified that it is a road that will lead me nowhere, so I balk when it comes to actually stepping forward.

I did, over the last year, actually work on editing my manuscript, thanks to some super helpful insight from an editor (and my toxic mindset did not lead me to think the praise she gave me was out of pity, since she also offered me some excellent points on what I needed to work on and was ultra professional) and although it was a very slow process for me, I’m almost at a fork in the road again. To query, or spiral in indecision for months.

I was spinning my wheels for so, so long. Longer than I should. I try not to look at it as wasted time, but as tedious character development. But I have begun to feel an ache, deep inside. The ache of how badly I want to make this happen for myself. But with that comes that nagging fear that it might not happen. And the toxic idea begins to creep into my brain that maybe – maybe – it’s foolish to try.

Now, the ache seems to outweigh the fear. So I will try, and not let any missteps, or steps backward, take me off the path. I will keep moving, even if it’s slow, and the uncertain road is long. And maybe, I will soon move forward with the confidence I need.