Don’t Listen to Your Brain. Do This Instead.
How I'm overcoming my fear of failure
Welcome to Am I Cured Yet? I’m so happy you’re here. My sincere thanks for hanging out in my little corner of the internet.
Today, I’m writing about how I’m trying to combat my dissatisfaction and negative self-talk, plus the goals I’m setting for the remainder of the year.
If you read my recent post, you’ll know I’ve found this year challenging.
Last week brought a couple more disappointments: I was under the weather, and my dog Flynn was recovering from surgery to remove an embedded foxtail from his paw.
As is often the case when one feels unwell, my routines went entirely out the window. I wasn’t getting outside every day for a bit of sunshine and a long walk, and I could feel my mental health taking a hit. Like a lot of people, I rely on my routines to help manage my anxiety, and so, in times such as this, my inner talk can become cruel and despondent.
Here are just a few of the self-admonishments which were swirling around my head on a daily basis:
You’ve got nothing of value to say with your writing; you should just give up now
You’ve spent five years writing your memoir; it’s never going to get published
There’s no way you can keep up a weekly newsletter; it will be so embarrassing when you fail!
At the heart of all these thoughts is shame, fear of failure and a deep-seated belief of not being good enough. Truthfully, a lot of the time, I’m afraid of even being seen at all.
As I sat with these thoughts all last week, I came to realise that they’re a perfect representation of negative self-talk as a form of ego protection. It’s taken me years to be brave enough to share my writing, and it would be devastating if I were to fail at my goals. I believe my brain is just trying to save me a lot of time and heartache by convincing me to quit while I’m ahead.
The thing is, I don’t want to quit.
I’m proud of myself for even trying to write at all. Five years ago, before I got cancer, I’d have been too afraid to put myself out there, but the stakes are different now; my life split in half by the before and the after. And since I don’t want to give up—despite what my brain may tell me—I need to find a way to push through my what-if-ism, procrastination and dissatisfaction.
As a bit of a self-help junkie, I’m always drawn to concepts which help me make sense of myself. When you feel lost and alone, it’s comforting to imagine someone reaching out to guide you home. It’s all too easy for me to get swept away by my emotions, so I find it grounding to examine my life, breaking it down into chunks like they’re different subjects at school. I return to timeless tools: journalling, filling out The Wheel of Life and setting goals for the months ahead.
In the past—particularly when I was sick—I found solace in the idea of seasons, seeking to remind myself that nothing lasts forever. Winter may be bitterly cold, but eventually, it gives way to Spring. Everything in our lives naturally experiences troughs and peaks, and deep down, I know that the things that seem hard right now won’t always stay this way.
Even if some things feel dormant, there’ll be new life soon, and I’ve come to believe that taking action is the best tonic for a restless soul. So, in the spirit of ushering in the regrowth, here are some of the ‘bulbs’ I’ve decided to plant in my life:
Buy a nature almanac to help myself feel more connected to the seasons and get out of my own head.
Attend monthly literary events to make new in-real-life writer friends, reminding myself I’m not alone in fearing putting my writing out there.
Focus on reading nonfiction books that reignite my motivation for memoir and self-improvement.
Recommit to long daily walks with my pups now that Flynn and I feel better.
These may not be the most lofty goals, but I hope that they’ll counteract my negative self-talk and jumpstart an area of my life in which I’m dissatisfied.
Before long, I expect I’ll see daffodils.
Are you planting daffodils in your own life? I’d love to hear what they are! And if this is the first time you’ve come across my page, I’d be honoured if you considered subscribing. You can expect always thoughtful, occasionally funny, weekly essays about health, happiness and mortality.
I’ll be back next week. In the meantime, I hope the Autumn season ushers in more motivation and happiness for us all :)
Emma
xx
Reading back through your posts and loving your bravery, wanting to cheerlead your beautiful evocative truthful writing, feeling myself and my cancer journey in your words, understanding why I can’t cut my hair anymore after losing it, re-experiencing hormones again, hanging onto seasons, and nothing lasting forever, understanding the complex PTSD of what we lost, including dear friends on the road…and how loss and grief shapes us differently now that we have really lived it…keep writing and sharing….we need your voice.