Self-Selecting
My favorite self-sabotaging behavior
I received an email today about self-limiting beliefs. It’s not the first time I’ve come across that phrase. It was the first time ‘self-selecting’ smacked me in the face and said, “Hello, this is your jam.”
I haven’t written for a long time. I can give you a heap of excuses but the true one is that I’ve culled my words, often before I’ve started.
Here are some of my most usual thoughts:
That’s been done before.
This is nothing new.
Who’ll give a crap about that?
Someone else would do a much better job of this than you.
You really don’t know enough to write about this.
That’s not going to work.
You aren’t capable of pulling off a story that intricate or involved.
How can I possibly be a writer when I’m not letting myself write?
I have an inexhaustible supply of ideas. Scenes constantly unfurl in my mind. Words chase each other across my brain, fighting to spill together out of my fingers or mouth. I’m stopping them. I line them up and shoot them down. Ideas. Scenes. Words.
How did this happen?
I’ve always been a bit like this but chasing the ‘published book’ dream is what pushed this way out of control.
With luck and hard work, I’ve had some of my work published. I’ve also had some rejected. One story has been rejected and rewritten for years as I chased the ‘traditionally published, print book’ dream. I just can’t ‘get’ exactly what they want my story to be. It’s been completely rewritten 4 times, and parts of it reworked, edited, adjusted or changed many more times than I can remember.
It’s just not there yet.
Due to my non-comprehension of what the publisher wants, my self-selecting has gotten out of hand. I’ve decided that nothing I write is of value. Nothing is going to suit anyone. Nothing is worthwhile.
It’s an extreme reaction. Ridiculous. However, try telling my mind that! It believes — I don’t understand what they want. I don’t understand why my story isn’t ‘good enough’. Therefore, I’m hopeless. I should never write again.
What do I do instead?
I’ve begun taking photos instead of writing. Until now, I wasn’t quite sure why.
Photography is all about self-selection. I download my images, delete anything not in focus or where the creature vanished before I clicked. I then edit and choose. Only what I consider is the ‘best I could do’ is selected.
I belong to a photography group and I learn a lot from other photographers. I constantly compare my images to theirs — mine don’t stack up too often.
Of course, I don’t put many of my photos up into the group. I’ve self-selected them and deemed them not worthy.
I might put them on social media for friends and those who aren’t photographers and don’t know that they’re crap. I might use them for dreams I have of making cards and postcards…but will I actually go about to sell them? I didn’t last time when I tried this dream, and I’ll let you know if I’m braver in this cycle of it.
How do I get past this?
That’s the question, isn’t it?
I’ve got this far writing a Medium post…so that’s a start! So far I haven’t decided this is shit and deleted it. And if you’re reading it, then that means I actually hit send and Kim Petersen decided it was okay for Living Out Loud. And truly, that’ll be a win for me because it’s been a while since I’ve managed that.
Maybe I’ll try to post a photo in the photography group.
Maybe I’ll try to write one of the scenes in my head.
I have withdrawn from my book contract and given up (temporarily) on my traditionally published, print book dream. It was necessary for my mental health, and I needed to let that story go and work on something new.
It’s my hope that since I’ve seen my flaw, admitted it publicly, and acknowledged that it’s been a huge stumbling block in my life… maybe it will go away, or temper, or quieten, or fade into the background.
Bravery comes to mind too. Am I brave enough to tell that little demon in my head to “shut the fuck up”? Do I have the fortitude to push past this self-sabotage? Have I got the courage to believe that maybe my words matter? Maybe my ideas have merit. Maybe I can help someone else who is trapped by their own selection against themselves.
I’m reading this back now. If you see this post, you’ll know I found a tiny speck of bravery.
If you’re like me, I hope you can find specks of bravery too — enough to make a big brave shield against self-sabotage!
