GET RID OF A LIMITING BELIEF THAT YOU HAVE ABOUT YOURSELF OR YOUR ABILITIES

‘I can’t do it.’

My mother will tell you, if asked, that I probably say this phrase multiple times a day. She will also likely tell you that ‘there’s no such thing as can’t.’

She’s probably right; (don’t tell her that, on pain of death) I probably can do it. It’s just that I’ve got this terrible habit known as self-doubt. I am constantly putting blockades in my own way, constantly over-thinking and over-complicating simple scenarios. My problem is I’m so afraid of failing, so afraid I can’t do it, that I simply don’t try.

My whole life has been negative ‘but what if’s’ and a multitude of half-concocted plans that I’ve abandoned because I’m too afraid. It may appear as laziness, but the moment I’ve done the hard work, the moment the plan is feasible; I panic. I live in a world inside my mind where theoretically I could accomplish anything, and I’m happy there, but in the real world I’m accomplishing nothing. I’m failing at life, based purely on the notion that I’m afraid to fail.

Is it anxiety? Perhaps. I’m more inclined to say it’s a control issue. The entire time ideas are solely contained inside my head I have complete control; the moment I release them into the world there are so many variables, much of which are out of my control. I must rely in some part on somebody else to buy, to produce, or to teach the idea. I need to have some form of acceptance or grading, some way of knowing whether the venture was successful, and that sort of pressure is immense. That feeling of helplessness, vulnerability, weakness as you relinquish control or ask for help. That drive to be the best you can be, and knowing, due to how self-critical you are, it will never be good enough.

This is true even of my writing. I struggle to (I’ll admit, originally, I wrote ‘cannot’ here but stopped myself- see, progress) write plans, I dread returning to a piece of work because the chapters I did previously will suddenly have gaping holes or mistakes and I’ll spend hours fixing them instead of focusing on moving the story forwards. I believe a writer will never truly be satisfied with their penmanship. Emotions can always be expressed better, a scene described in more elaborate detail, character profiles can always be built up stronger; or sometimes we feel we gave too much away and wish we’d held back.

Acknowledging my tendency to quit before I have the opportunity to fail, combined with my instant leap to ‘this is so rubbish, isn’t it’ before I’ve even allowed for compliments, is the first step to vanquishing this habit.

From today, I’m going to try saying:

‘I might not be able to do this, but maybe I’ll surprise myself.’

And I’m not going to allow myself to talk me out of completing this 31-day challenge. Maybe nobody will read it, maybe it will be rubbish, but maybe it will inspire even just one person to practice self-love.