Impediments, Part V: Fear and Self-Doubt

I put off writing this post. Fear and self-doubt are at the heart of the funks, the distractions, the comparisons, and the deflated egos we talked about this month. I hoped to cure my rampant insecurity so I could share the process with you (not that you need it), and we’d never again have impediments to our magic. I’m nervous writing this paragraph, which I’m taking as a sign I’m not cured.

Fear and self-doubt keep me from socializing with people of creativity and accepting the help they provide. Fear and self-doubt gum up the writing. I stare at the page, delete the work, decide my creativity flatlined during second grade, and google the Hemlock Society.

There are times (read: every stinking day) when I think my pages of writing will be useful for nothing but wiping dog poop from my shoe treads. I’m so afraid of failure that I don’t want to start. Remember I told you the husband called me out on this self-sabotage?

There’s also fear of success. Fear of losing relationships because of all the time devoted to magic. Fear of “making it” by other people’s standards but not my own or at the expense of my standards. Fear of losing the passion. Fear of others’ judgments. Fear of achieving my dreams only to realize they aren’t what I imagined….

I could go on all day, which would be easier than writing the meat of the post since I have no advice I can verify from experience.

Except one thing. Everyone needs a support system. My husband invented something he calls Exorcising the Inner-Editor. He does a laying on of hands Baptist-style and pantomimes removing the editor, beating it, stomping it, and throwing it out. His antics break the morose shell and I move on. You might consider recruiting a few lovable lunatics to break the enticing spell of self pity.

Lucy loaned me a copy of Anne Lamott’s Bird by Bird and I’m forever grateful. Anne’s humor, honesty, and suggestions saved the tattered shreds of my sanity on numerous occasions. She outlines how she overcomes the doubt that greets her at the computer every day:

• Close your eyes.
• Breathe.
• Call a friend.
• Use that fear, paranoia, and doubt in your creativity; express it.
• Kill perfectionism. She writes, “I think perfectionism is based on the obsessive belief that if you run carefully enough, hitting each stepping-stone just right, you won’t have to die. The truth is that you will die anyway and that a lot of people who aren’t even looking at their feet are going to do a whole lot better than you, and have a lot more fun while they’re doing it.”
• Write a letter to yourself, a loved one, anyone at all.
• Fill yourself back up with the memories, flavors, ideas, visions, and observations that give life its zest.
• Find those filling things by asking what you’d do if you knew you’d die tomorrow.
• Realize that all of life is recycling the ideas that came before, but you have your own sensibility, pathos, and meaning to add.
• Make a present for someone else.

Elizabeth George exercises.

Madeleine L’Engle said we have to find satisfaction in who we are, the work we produce: “We are never satisfied with what we have done. We know that our best is never adequate. If I had to be satisfied with what I have written I’d still be on my first novel. But I wrote what was for me the best book I could write at that moment in time.”

Make magic the best you can. That is enough.

What do you do to overcome fear and self-doubt?

Impediments, Part III: The Green-Eyed Monster and Other Subconscious Beasts

“O beware, my lord, of jealousy! It is the green-ey’d monster which doth mock the meat it feeds on.”

-Shakespeare, Othello, 3:3

You go to a conference or reunion, and in the midst of all the catching up and showing off, someone says her magic is going phenomenally well. You’re thrilled. Really you are. The thoughts of crying in the bathroom might be there, lurking in the background, ready to catch you the moment you start to think about all she’s accomplished—perhaps it’s even your dream, too—while you’re still trying.

Has that happened to you? Or is it just from my diary of a neurotic kid?

Creative magic is subjective and its process fluid, which makes it easy for me to go on the Crazy-Self Carousel of Comparison. When Crazy-Self takes over, I feel like a failure if I’m not doing as well as someone else was at the same age. It’s a sign from the universe that I suck. I’m so busy looking at those beside me that I cannot focus on the work in front of me, so I get off the Crazy-Self Carousel of Comparison a little sick and no farther than where I started.

I’m far from an expert on coping with comparison and jealousy (not from a lack of trying), but I try these tricks to beat the green-eyed monster into submission, and I’d like to share in case the beast sneaks up on you in a dark alley or cocktail party (not that it would).

1. I read Anne Lamont’s Bird by Bird. She has a chapter about jealousy I swear she could have picked from my brain, except she offers great insight:

And I, who have been the Leona Helmsley of jealousy, have come to believe that the only things that help ease or transform it are (a) getting older, (b) talking about it until the fever breaks, and (c) using it as material. Also, someone somewhere along the line is going to be able to make you start laughing about it, and then you will be on your way home.

Anne mentions Clive James’s poem “The Book of My Enemy Has Been Remaindered” made her laugh. Anne Lamont makes me laugh, so do my friends and the husband.

2. I remember why I’m doing this in the first place. It isn’t for accolades or a check mark on the tally card of life. The magic is an addiction for me, a high brought on by creation. And I love it when other people share their magic. It feels like someone gave me a birthday cake. Someday I’d like to pass that gift along, even if the icing is too stiff and the layers are wonky on my offering.

3. I thank the heavens that magic is being made. If someone else makes magic, we’re not lessened by it. The world is enriched. Jean Rhys said, “Listen to me. All of writing is a huge lake. There are great rivers that feed the lake, like Tolstoy and Dostyevsky. And there are mere trickles, like Jean Rhys. All that matters is feeding the lake. I don’t matter. The lake matters. You must keep feeding the lake.” At the end of the day, it isn’t about me. It is about the art and those who receive it. I am a vehicle. I can serve faithfully and keep the channels open for the magic or I can jam them with contempt and jealousy.

How do you get off the Crazy-Self Carousel of Comparison? How do you deal with jealousy?