The crippling and anxiety inducing art of doing
The freedom of doing what you want to do, middle-fingers extended to the face of failure, is incredibly… well… freeing. It is infinitely desirable and unfortunately for many of us it’s just out of reach.
It is also a sack of festering rubbish.
Our desperate need for results. The constant pressure for validation. Not to mention the increasingly permanent digital ledger of our every social interaction. These are the batteries that power the megaphone of our doubting self.
There is no cure to that doubt by the way. No pill. No magic tweet. No hashtag. No Medium post.
Instead it’s a 10 step plan. Steps 1 through 9 are ‘do the thing’. Step 10? Repeat. And even then it doesn’t mean you’re going to be good. But fuck good. Who wants to be the best at something anyway? Think of the pressure.
Instead strive for ‘doing’.
The ability to use your voice, even to shout into the angry void of twitter melts, is a huge privilege and one that you should not waste.
So post your shitty drawing of a weird looking dog. Post it for you. Don’t post it for likes. Post it because in doing so you are doing more than 99% of us will ever get round to doing. Post it because the next drawing will be a little bit better. Then better after that.
Take that initiative and use it to show that one high-school bully that you don’t give a flying fuck. You like this picture of a dog and you’re going to share it.