This couldn’t possibly work, I thought. I spent countless hours jotting down half-baked ideas, none of which I considered good enough. Every day, I write in my journal—three pages of word vomit, to be exact. I write about the same things: what to eat, what to do, where to go, and any fear that crept up on me before falling asleep or when I first rolled out of bed. I often think about how I could publicly humiliate myself in conversation, my work, and my appearance. I’m afraid of being perceived for all I am. I wouldn’t stick out like a sore thumb if I upheld someone else’s view of myself. I would be predictable and unremarkable. I would disguise myself. I would conform to people’s ideas of me. Nothing to see here! I scream as loud as possible in my head.
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to Mixed Bag to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.