Self-doubt comes and goes and comes and goes and comes and goes and comes again. Perhaps it does not go. Perhaps it stays, but hides in my psyche leading me to believe that it has gone. And then it leaps out, when I least expect it, and scares the confidence out of me.
I do not feel good when I do not write, yet I engage in this self-sabotage with encouragement from self-doubt.
Is what I write worthwhile? Does it matter? Is my writing getting me anywhere? No matter how much other people try to reassure me, my self-doubt says, “What you write is not worthwhile and does not matter. Your writing is getting you nowhere.”
Self-Doubt, have you been sent to torment me?
“You can choose to see it that way, but my mission is not to torment you. My mission is to keep you humble. Too many pompous people exist. My mission is to stop you from becoming one of them.”
But you stop me from writing.
“I do not. You stop yourself by choosing to believe me when I tell you that what you write is not worthwhile. You do not have to believe me, or you can believe me and write anyway.”
You’re trying to encourage me?
“Know this, Gary Johnston: My mission is to stop you from feeling self-important; my mission is to stop you from having an ego the size of the Seven Seas; my mission is to stop you from becoming an obnoxious, conceited bastard, and I will say anything to complete my mission.”
Uh–er–thanks for the heads-up.