I Resign from...Self-Doubt, My Shadow Editor

Self-doubt is a terrible employer.

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To Self-Doubt. Department of Self-sabotage

CC: Snowball, Canine Director of Infernal Affairs

Subject: Formal Resignation

Dear Self-doubt.

After a thankless, dark partnership in which I was the carrier of sleepless nights. crafter of thankless efforts and bearer of a heart in shreds, I throw down the gauntlet as your lifelong host. Effective immediately.

I understand the shock that this resignation will create. You've held your position with ferocious tenacity--the strong gust behind each decision, expertly concealing yourself behind the word "pragmatic", creating emails folders full of imagined criticisms.

You told me, "Don't contribute. You're not good enough," so I never raised my voice at meetings. You said, "You'll never be able to do this." so I postponed my request for a promotion, waiting for a prompt from my boss that would never arrive.

"You're not ready," was a means of control. A distorted perception that allowed you to keep me under your thumb. Not daring to do the things I was meant to.

It was your way of keeping my dreams under wraps, where they would remain cold, stagnant and unfulfilled. The fear it injected within was your way of keeping me obedient. Never daring to venture beyond the borders of sense and sensibility. Never daring to try anything that would push me to achieve something that was better than myself.

"You must be realistic." was a means of keeping me within a cookie-cutter zone. A way of looping me within a never-ending cycle of doing the same thing as everyone else...even if I wasn't meant to be like anyone else.

It kept me safe...but restrained. Stifled. Always doing the same tasks, maintaining a deadweight routine. Being a bot who could fulfil, but not for me--for you.

"You must be humble" was a means of shaping me to be respectful--to you. To be a meek robot, functioning on an automaton. Performing tasks I should--but were moulds that were ill-fitting and uncomfortable.

I thought that humility was a virtue..and it is. But you used it as a vicious magic trick to get me to stay small---and told me that by staying tiny, I would remain safe in my mouse hole. The lack of size was noble. It was survival.

You saw hope and clipped her wings. You saw Ability and tied his legs in a gunnysack.

But I had a bit of a push. From my greatest supporter, Snowball, the West Highland Canine Director of Infernal Affairs. She never complained when I missed deadlines. Only that I (and my snacks) continue to exist.

She has buried your file along with the rest of her favourite treat stash. And her tail wagged. Vigorously. And she, and others like her. have earned my trust. You have not.

Oh, I forgot the Turning Point.

I'm done working for you. Being under your thumb.

I'm done consulting you about anything and everything because I think I can't do it.

I'm done issuing disclaimers before completing any task.

I'm done believing that my show of confidence is pseudo-confidence.

But I'm tired. Trying to hear the voice of Joy is so daunting. So sick of proofing myself for flaws.

You're arguing again. And I know that you'll continue to argue. But I'll recognize your nagging voice--

You'll continue to tell me that I'm not good enough. That my performance will never measure up. That I will always be Lilliputian.

But Snowball, and others like her, will show you the door. With a sharp bite to your ankle. I won't sympathise.

So this is my resignation. No, my reclamation.

I reclaim my courage. My strength. My space.

My beautiful voice.

And Snowball. and her choir, will be there to serve as my backing singers...or howlers.

Consider this my final notice. As for renumeration? don't worry. I don't need it.

Keep the praise. The verbal medals you awarded with insincerity, only when you needed me to fuel your editing abilities. I've traded them for better ones--resilience. Courage. The quiet, calm confidence of knowing that I deserve my place.

Right here. Right now.

And if you come back, will remember that my dignity isn't found in looking for praise.

It's in showing up. Perhaps I'll quiver. Perhaps I'll shiver. But I'll keep showing up.

You made me rehearse exits, way before confirming that I couldn't achieve. I now rehearse entrances.

You trained me to tiptoe. I have learned to create thunder.

So, I return the key to my office. I have also changed the password to my confidence.

You have no access.

Yours Sincerely,

Michelle

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