If it is a challenge I wish to take on: I throw myself into the deep end; I get mad at myself when I can barely tread the water; I call myself deplorable names and hold up impossible examples of why I am shit and someone/anyone else could do this better; I get angrier with myself; I then feel great despair; then after much personal mental abuse and self loathing at why I can never be good enough to do anything, I wish to sink to the bottom and drown, because I'm not worth it for not being able to do whatever it is I set out to do; finally a quiet moment ensues after I've hit my lowest point, and suddenly I find my unconscious mind has come up with a game plan while I was moaning and being piteous like a mental case (like the rest of my family). And then miracles happen, and the impossible becomes reality.
That's how I got through college with a 3.94 GPA, and that's how I'm playing advanced ornaments in my second year of playing the tin whistle. And that's how I'm going to finish my novel. Not being good enough drives me to be better so I can rate just as good as anyone else in my mind. Only later do I realize that I accomplished things that a few others might be hard pressed to under similar circumstances. And since I was never good enough as a kid for my parents, teachers and friends, that's my baggage as well as my fuel.
I just wish I could escape the self-abuse part. But I figure that masochism comes with the creative process, and at least I'm not cutting my ear off to present them to the human object of my affection. All things considered, I got off light. And at least I'm not schizophrenic, like some members of my family have been diagnosed. Genius and Insanity are the best of buddies. ^__^
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Date: 2007-04-11 03:54 pm (UTC)That's how I got through college with a 3.94 GPA, and that's how I'm playing advanced ornaments in my second year of playing the tin whistle. And that's how I'm going to finish my novel. Not being good enough drives me to be better so I can rate just as good as anyone else in my mind. Only later do I realize that I accomplished things that a few others might be hard pressed to under similar circumstances. And since I was never good enough as a kid for my parents, teachers and friends, that's my baggage as well as my fuel.
I just wish I could escape the self-abuse part. But I figure that masochism comes with the creative process, and at least I'm not cutting my ear off to present them to the human object of my affection. All things considered, I got off light. And at least I'm not schizophrenic, like some members of my family have been diagnosed. Genius and Insanity are the best of buddies. ^__^