Tag Archives: doubt

Avoidance Tactics

6 Mar

Several hours ago, I sat down at my desk in front of my computer. I clicked aimlessly through Pinterest and re-read blog posts I’d starred in my Reader (and saved on Pocket, and oooh! Feedly!) and put on more old episodes of How I Met Your Mother. I also bugged J, who was actually working hard on building a model of the set he designed for Pygmalion, all while I desperately avoided this self-imposed task of writing–creating–a new blog post.

I rearranged my desk, ostensibly to avoid the drip that might materialize during the night since my landlord came to investigate they mysterious stain spreading on our ceiling tile (that’s another story. For now we haven’t found a leak.) and wound up removing the tile above my desk. I stuck my face in Saffron’s face and scratched behind her ears. I stared at my own face in the mirror for way too long, cataloging all my various imperfections. I checked Facebook and Twitter and Tumblr and Facebook again. I  looked at my knitting in progress (I taught myself a few weeks ago! Go me!), but since crafting is also an act of creation, I can’t very well do THAT. Instead, I consumed.

I want to be creative. I’m pretty sure I am a creative person, actually. I was as a kid. I mean, most kids are, and the theory is that adults are, too, they’ve just learned to suppress their creativity in favor of conformity. I used to draw all the time, and write. I’d trace characters from storybooks and collage them together to create visuals for my own stories. I’ve absolutely retained that magpie tendency, but now I hoard bookmarks in Chrome and starred blog posts in Reader and regular books, too, some of which I don’t actually read because, well…

A few titles in my library. I've read three of these books.

A few titles in my library. I’ve read three of these books.

I’m not sure where my creative aptitude lies, and even if it turns out I have a talent for some creative venture–writing, or maybe design (boy, typing that was scary. Even admitting that I might be interested in such a thing was so very, very scary)–could I have the balls to pursue it? I can pick up a book on a subject I think might interest me, but there are some I’ve had for years without cracking the covers.

I’d rather continue to consume–pins things to my boards and read other people’s blogs and maybe take an online class in coding a website (but avoid the homework! wouldn’t want to actually produce anything!). I watch a ridiculous amount of tv for someone who doesn’t have cable, and I spend hours upon hours in front of computer screens every day, not producing anything, just consuming more content. Numbing, in other words. Avoiding something I may want to do, because even wanting something scares me at this point.

I’ve been reading a lot of Steven Pressfield and Brené Brown lately, and even listening to a podcast of Oprah’s 10 part webinar with Eckhart Tolle for her “Spirit” channel on XM radio, so I KNOW what this is. Resistance. Fear of vulnerability. It’s “me” struggling against my “self”, if you’re into Tolle’s teachings.

Even these journals are mostly blank!

Even these journals are mostly blank!

But knowing what this is doesn’t make sitting down to do the work less scary, especially since I don’t have a defined end goal. I don’t know what I want out of this blog. I don’t really even know what I want out of this life. I certainly don’t know what I want out of my career. So why am I even doing this?

I guess to try and figure it out. To find my voice, or talent, or develop a passion for one of the things that right now, I’m only curious about and deathly afraid of actually saying out loud that I might want to pursue.

Thanks for stopping by today, and I apologize if this post is a bit of a downer. I’m still trying to figure out a lot of things, especially how to live with all this confusion.

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Five Days Away

20 Feb

This post is inspired by today’s prompt from LaTrina’s BlogMeFebruary Link-Up. It’s supposed to be about skin and aging. I’ll get to the skin part eventually.

I’m five days away from something that honestly, doesn’t feel all that big, while at the same time I think it’s maybe supposed to be big. Let me clarify: There’s this little, persistent voice at the back of my head listing all the things I could have, should have done by now. Now that I’m five days away from 28.

It might be the therapy, but mostly I’ve been ignoring this voice. I don’t know what I want to do, that’s true. It’s also true that it’s okay if I don’t know yet. I’m not as successful as I’d pictured myself by now, that’s true. When I was much, much younger I even thought I’d get started on the whole having kids thing at this point. Now J and I just laugh at that thought. I am married, which, before I’d met J (ok, so this means before freshman year of college) I didn’t think I even wanted to be married. So mostly when I catch this voice whispering, I’m able to throw a bunch of fact back at it, shout her down with what is going well in my life. Mostly it works.

But you know what voice I have been listening to? (This is in no way an admission that there are several voices in my head. I swear.) The one of a former co-worker from my grad school days who told 23 year-old me “After 25, it all starts going down.” As in your body. And yeah, I’ve experienced that–though in my case it’s been more weight-gain than things heading south of their own volition, so I at least have the hope that things can be tightened up when I start putting in the effort. However, this voice (and probably every beauty ad I’ve ever seen and heard) have started working on me about WRINKLES.

In all fairness, I don’t have any right now. If my parents, in their early-to-mid fifties, are any indication, I’ve got some good genes working in my favor. My dad has some pretty severe crow’s feet, but the man eschews sunscreen (I know, I know, I fight with him about it constantly.) like it’s his job. Otherwise, they’re really only just beginning to show a little wear and tear. Their 30s and 40s, from my memory and photographic evidence, were good to them (in general, but also in the wrinkle department.)

So, I don’t have any wrinkles at this point. But I can’t help thinking about Dad’s crow’s feet.

That’s why this year, for my 28th birthday, I gifted myself some night cream and some eye cream. Because I’d love it if I could avoid those crow’s feet for even longer than he did. (Daily sunscreen use was a present I gave myself a long time ago. Yay me.)

So, happy birthday to me. This feels a little vain, but I did go with the drugstore options. Even if Cate Blanchett’s face is a pretty compelling advertisement for that crazy expensive SK-II stuff.

LOOK AT THAT SKIN. I know Photoshop must be involved, but DAYUM. Cate looks good.