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The Perfect Temperature

January 7, 2017

My mind is racing. "What you have to say is pointless & a waste of time," "what could you possibly teach someone else? You haven't been through enough," "people are going to make fun of you," "you're the only one this late on these truths, everyone else knows already," "stop wasting your time." I write ad write, then I re-read the words about 1,000 times per paragraph questioning every sentence I chose. Reading it so many times it just becomes horrible by default (like an overplayed song!). The endless chatter in my head loudly verbalizing the self-doubt that runs through my genes. It's a really interesting place to be aware of these doubts, yet know the deeper truth of their  scandalous lies. I'm convinced it must be the first stage of ridding myself of self-doubt, completely. It's quite a paradoxical experience, like the mental version of your body feeling hot and cold at the same time. The heat revs through me vivaciously as I'm gearing up for the task, whatever it may be. I'm full of confidence, excitement, and strength. Then without as much of a warning the beginning of the task greets me with ice rushing through my veins from my feet upward, and I'm frozen. The temperatures battle for a while until one ultimately prevails. 

 

          More times than I'd like to admit the ice keeps me in place. Sitting on ideas, words, movement, art, and so much more that has the potential to bring something beautiful to the world. But instead it gets filed into a vault within me labeled "not good enough." Rarely does it see daylight again. And sometimes the heat wins by a hair. Though stiff and rugged, I move. Yet even then I criticize, judge, and berate my expression floating on other people's validations until I am alone with my own thoughts again. The truth is hard because to be honest I'd like to think I was above riding the emotional wave of likes, comments, and compliments. But, I'm not. I still judge myself based on how many followers I have, how many people liked my latest post, and how many people visit my site/read my blog. I judge myself based on how many people tell me I've inspired them in one way or another. I judge myself on how free I was in my expressions that day. I judge myself. A lot. It's toxic and I know it, but it's like my version of a cigarette.