Self-sabotage
I’ve lost confidence and gained a talent for self-sabotage. I think anyone who takes a short stroll through my blog will notice how I took a straight curve and went completely off the rails. Still, I’ll settle for having spotted the pattern relatively early.
There was a moment when I got too comfortable. I genuinely thought I’d shaken off that annoying little voice whispering behind my ear, so I let my guard down. What a brutal wake up call.
I’ve realized that ever since I started writing, my biggest excuse has been the need to produce something of “value.” So I’ve thrown myself into ambitious, humanities style projects that require unconventional reading, consulting sources, forming well documented opinions, and a whole series of other time and energy draining processes. Unsurprisingly, I end up overwhelmed before I even begin. And it’s not just those projects I abandon; I end up abandoning writing altogether, because I’ve defined success in a way that guarantees burnout: it only counts if it’s hard, if it impresses, if it demands heroic effort. Anything that comes easily to me, that I can do simply, that is authentic and truly mine… isn’t enough.
From experience, I know that what really draws an audience in is resonance, not just external polish; I believe that part is secondary. And yet, I still struggle to believe my writing is useful unless I layer it with someone else’s wisdom. I’ve been so obsessed with offering something unique, something that can’t be found anywhere else that I’ve been discarding the very thing that is unique: my particular perspective, my specific voice, my mix of experiences. By running it through ten filters of “effort and transformation” so it looks more “valuable,” what I lose is precisely that singularity. Ironic. I laugh so I don’t cry, honestly.
But that’s not all. You see, I’m painfully aware down to my very last neuron, that I’ve been writing for six months and have zero recognition. I blamed my content: it’s not relatable enough, I’m not expressing myself well enough, I’m not touching on trending topics and all of that seems to support my main excuse. But in reality, that same excuse is what’s kept me from making the effort to look for readers on forums or social media, to interact with other writers, to promote my blog at all. Because deep down, I don’t believe in myself or see how this could benefit anyone. I’ve decided my content doesn’t even deserve that basic effort. So how the hell am I supposed to know whether it has value or not? I’ve never given it a real chance!
The approach is clear to me now. Since I have no guarantees of anything, I need to keep developing the blog ideas I have in mind for at least three months, with a real, sustained effort to put them out into the world. Up to now, what’s hurt me is that, because my time is so limited, I want what I do to pay off. That’s logical, understandable even. If time is limited, every investment has to be justified. If something doesn’t prove its usefulness quickly, it seems rational to abandon it. But here’s the problem: I’ve been measuring “useful” solely in terms of immediate external results: audience, recognition, validation. And by doing that, I’ve been ignoring something that truly did happen: I created content and learned about my own voice, my process, and my obstacles. That isn’t fair to me at all, which is why this small challenge or commitment actually feels worthwhile.