Writing is hard. Earlier this month I sent out a political tweet thread encouraging people to get registered to vote, but what ended up a tweet originally started as a longer blog post. It was gonna be inspirational, it was going to be angry, and it was ultimately going nowhere. So I cut it short and relied on the safety net that is Twitter’s 280 character limit. The structure is nice and it’s less opportunity for doubt to creep in. Give me 280 characters and I’ll go to town. Give me this blank space and no limits and suddenly possibility is daunting, and every sentence is another ledge I’m flirting with. A free-fall into trashing what I originally set out to do. Self-sabotage before it’s even had a chance to breathe. I know I’m not alone in this habit. It’s kinda fucked up, isn’t it? How many things have you attempted to try this week only to talk yourself back from actually doing it? There are already a million hurdles to clear, our inner voice shouldn’t be one of them.
I’m preaching to the choir though. You know this, I know this yet here we are. Doubt is a muscle we’ve nurtured and grown. A defense mechanism from shame. I’ve talked about it before but there’s a valley of difference between what we know and what we feel. That valley grows every time we dare to edge out closer to that ledge and think maybe I can. Yet no matter how intimidating that valley may be, we can bridge that gap. The valley is only lies we tell ourselves so instead take the time to write a letter to your doubt. Grab a piece of paper and in the biggest, boldest font you can muster write this down.
I am more than the results of my efforts.
Streamer, writer, creator. One day I woke up painfully aware of my existence and I've been apologizing for it ever since.
(WE START BY DIPPING THEM IN WARM MILK CHOCOLATE, AND ALLOWING TO REST FOR 15 MINUTES. THE COOKIES ARE THEN SERVED WITH A GLASS OF COLD MILK)