I have been meaning to write an update on how my writing is going for a while now. As I have planned this though it has morphed in my head so excuse me if I get a little off track. I started my new job back at the end of April and it has been a real challenge to make sure I am managing my time properly so that I can keep up with the amount of writing that I want to do on a daily basis. However, in the last week and a half it has gotten much tougher.
If you were to ask anyone who knows me to describe me then most would say youthful, energetic, maybe in a positive way or maybe in a negative way. You wouldn’t get however unless you asked those who have been the absolutely closest to me would be anxious. I live with anxiety. I choose those word carefully. I am not plagued by it on a regular basis. I don’t need to be on medication, and I have been able to deal with only going for therapy, or counseling three times in my life. I know how to do things that make it easier. Usually this mean getting detailed instructions and having a plan of what I am supposed to do. When I started my new job in April I was given clear expectation about what the training would be like and for the most part it was followed. Then when I started my job it was easy because of A. the training I received, and B. My over a decade of doing similar work at a bunch of different companies. They have provided clear expectations and given me the feedback I need to do my job well.
In the last two weeks that changed. Responsibilities have changed sometimes on a moment’s notice, and feedback is not clear. Now all of this sounds horrible but has more to do with me being plunged into a new opportunity that is a little murky. So, while it is a good thing to has been triggering my anxiety repeatedly. This has made it harder for me to get any writing done. In fact, from Wednesday to Friday last week I accomplish nothing for my writing.
I have put myself in a position where I am barely able to keep up with the pace that I need to in order to finish my Patreon project in the time that I have allowed for myself. Even though I gave myself a good head start when I started this project and tried to write as much as possible when I wasn’t working. I have not done enough. In two months, I have gone from weeks head of where I needed to be to facing down just barely finishing things in time. I am currently at the half way point. I am regularly finishing things the day before I need to release them. I worry how much ground I am going to loose in the coming months.
So obviously my anxiety has now crept into my write space. I have always had a little tug of war between my optimism and my anxiety when I am writing. As long as they are close to balance then I can be very productive. Sometimes though the anxiety gets a little heavy and it prevents me from accessing that part of my brain that comes up with stories. It gets too busy thinking of all of the most horrible outcomes of everything that I have done.
Up until today I was in balance enough that I was able to get back to things in the last two days so I could get things accomplished. Last night at work my anxiety went into overdrive. It was all I could do to not withdraw my name from a promotion that is being decided next week, or even just quitting and walking out.
I got up this morning and tried to feel productive by working out, but in the couple of hours it took me to motivate myself I did the worst thing possible when my anxiety is peaking. I went on social media. I felt like every post was aimed at me. Criticizing how I do things, how I don’t do thing. Just plain calling me a failure. Most of these post were from people that I rarely interact with, and probably wouldn’t spare me a thought if I was standing in front of them. I started thinking about all of the feedback about my writing that I have received over the years. The advise that my writing was useless. The approximately 50 to 100 people that I have asked to read my writing, and then didn’t. The person who told me that she wouldn’t read my writing because she assumed it would be bad and she didn’t want to hurt my feelings by not liking it. I thought about the dozens of times I have tried to get people exposed to my writing, from open mike nights, to writing groups, to blogs, and even making a dedicated website for my writing, and my Patreon.
After a year of having the website, and over six months of the Patreon. I have accomplished seven people looking at my website, none of them read any of my writing, and two pity subscribers on my Patreon.
Today has been a unique day. For the first time in over twenty five years I had a thought that I have never had before.
I spent part of today seriously considering giving up writing.
After almost three decades I have accomplished nothing and given up so much. And honestly I don’t see a path towards actually ever getting any of my work published.
My optimism is holding on by its fingernails. I am trying not to make any rash decisions and seeing how I feel later. But if this is the last thing of mine that you ever read then you will know why. Maybe someday someone will go through my hundreds of rambling files and be able to piece something worthwhile together, but no one has ever shown any motivation towards my work, so I don’t think it is likely.