Years ago, my friend Bev asked why I was so hard on myself. I don't remember the specifics but the context was writing--more specifically--not writing.
I do have a tendency to beat myself up over things I should have done, wasting time, etc. Sometimes it's counterproductive. At other times, it's needed to get me back on track.
I wasted a good opportunity for some solid memoir writing last week. I came back home with a mental map of what I needed to do this week. Since I had to include what I should have done last week, the map is full. But I didn't follow through--I have very little to show for the past two days. And that means more pressure to do things today and the rest of this week and the more I want to just say no--fuck it and hide myself away and read or watch Bette Davis movies or something.
It's not that I'm a perfectionist--far from it. I'm not sure what my problem is. I asked Jeff last night what's wrong with me? (He didn't reply--probably thought there was no right answer.)
I recognize that I am going through an emotional, stressful time: death, legal challenges, impending relative visit, underemployment, financial concerns. It's a lot to handle. Despite that laundry list of woes, I also recognize that I am lucky and privileged--I have resources to deal with them.
I've just got to figure out how and where to start.
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