Will I ever be anything other than sporadic Part II

Sorry, I just like sloths.

Source: http://news.nationalgeographic.com/content/dam/news/2016/07/19/slothlove/01_slothlove_leaves.jpg

Do I lack all discipline? Am I in a rut? Does time hold no meaning for me?

Who knows. When you lack courage and conviction in yourself and your work, it can be a destructive cycle.

Don't get me wrong. I know my strengths, and I think I am a reasonably confident person - most of the time. But when it comes to writing, my mind can exploit insecurities and fears I didn't even know I had. Add to that compulsive perfectionist tendencies, and you have sadly abbreviated, sporadic - there's that word again - and incomplete output.

I'm a smart person. I know that the remedy for this problem is to write nevertheless and write as much as possible. Eventually, I'll get the better of my old nemesis, Self-Doubt, for long enough to produce something worthwhile. It's a common enough problem among writers.

So why is it that I never write as much as I want to and know I should?

I've begun to realize that our lives can be self-fulfilling prophecies to a terrifying extent. There was a time when I unfailingly believed that I could do and be better. There was always a tomorrow. And while I believed that to be the case, there was always reason to keep striving. There was a future in which I wrote all the time, everyday, in which I was a creative, fulfilled person who was disciplined and fit and lived life on her own terms. I just knew it.

But when that tomorrow failed to materialize quickly enough for my impatient young self, some subconscious part of me began to believe that I was just fated to be one of those people who never live up to their potential (which also happens to be one of my biggest fears). As soon as I began to believe that, I gave myself permission to stop trying. Make no mistake, believing the worst of yourself can be a cop-out. It's a lazy, self-pitying way of saying I was born this way, so why bother? or Circumstances have made me who I am and I can't change that.

Until next time, dear readers. If all goes well, that should be sooner rather than later.

Post#1

This is my very first blog post. I created a blog a while ago, but somehow never followed it up. I have an exam tomorrow, but I'm bored, and a little over-confident, and I suddenly remembered this blog. I thought I'd go out for a walk, but none of my friends are around; so I thought: why not have a go?
I don't know how many people are this way, or would admit to being this way, but I am often a very confused soul. Until upto about 13 years of age, I was rock-sure about everything:opinions, convictions, beliefs, myself. Then, half a year or so into my teens, my world seemed to turn upside down. People speak of teenage as an exciting, fun age: to me it seemed like one, huge, confusing mess. I seemed suddenly thrust into a semi-adult world, where I realized how little I really knew. Nothing was black and white anymore; the world seemed painted in shades of grey. I was questioning things I'd never doubted before: the goodness of the world, my identity, my faith. As I began to try to gain more knowledge of the 'real world', I only grew more confused. The plethora of information and opinions 'out there' for all to see gave me headaches.
Some years have passed, and I've grown a little, I hope. But the conclusions I've drawn have been tentative, hesitant; so very unlike the firm, nearly bigoted conclusions I had before. I've come to terms with the fact that there are things I might never be sure about. And I've to come to realize that it's alright, completely acceptable, even, to not be able to pass a solid judgment on everything. But consciously or unconsciously, I still search for answers, for closure. I suppose that it's human nature to want to either be on top of everything, or to appear so.
Some days I'm absolutely sure I'll be lost forever, that I'll end up accomplishing nothing, really. On others, I dare to hope and dream that I'll make a difference to the world; even if it's only a drop in the ocean.