What are you afraid of?

Someone asked me today why I've not really blogged for a while, they said they've missed my 'words of wisdom'. That kind of summed it up, really, because the truth is, I've not been feeling very wise. I've found the last few months (and by that, I mean years) to be incredibly taxing on all emotional and mental levels, and often, as the day draws to a close, it has felt like I've had precisely zero wisdom to share.

We all go through rough patches. Some are short, just a little bump in the road. Some are inordinately lengthy and troublesome and seem to last forever. I've been berating myself for all the things I've not achieved over the past months, when actually, in a lot of ways, I've done a fairly respectable job with the situation in front of me. Things could be worse. Not everything has been doomed or gloomy, but often the simplest of struggles have a cascade effect into the rest of my life.

Everyone's life is hectic in its own way. Everyone keeps themselves busy doing the things they consider to be important in that moment. Some people balance obligations with recreation successfully. I am not that person. I'll keep piling on (often unnecessary) responsibility until I can't cope with it anymore. I'll work hard, at the detriment of my health, putting every obligation before my own needs, until I reach a point where I feel I'm going to snap.

I have dedicated years to punishing myself, either for making mistakes, doing the 'wrong thing', 'failing', not doing enough 'useful things', or questioning why I am finding it so hard to get back on top of my life. This internal struggle isn't mine alone; I speak to women every day who have this kind of turmoil on so many levels. Guilt at 'abandoning' babies to go to work. Guilt for not working enough. Fear of stepping out of toxic situations. Fear of staying stuck forever in the same place. Not getting enough done. Taking too much rest. Taking too little rest. Not having children. Having too many children. Eating too much. Eating too little. Eating too often. Eating meat, dairy, gluten, carbs, secretly hating quinoa but eating it anyway. Everything we do, or don't do, has the potential to cause us distress if we get to a point where we've lost track of ourselves. That is the point where self loathing begins, where self esteem crashes out back seat, and lets insecurity take us for a drive through a bad neighbourhood in the dark.

Sometimes it feels like my whole life is a struggle to get back behind the wheel. Yet, sometimes, the car door is open all along, but I'm just too distracted being disappointed with my sprinting speed.

After a recent series of discussions on the topic of fear, I raised what I perceived to be my own fear of failure, in a conversation with a friend. My words were reversed and tossed back to me in the sentence, 'I put it to you, Joanna, that you are less afraid of failure, than you are of your own success'. Internally, it felt like a bit of a shocker, but, ultimately, I was shaken that I couldn't disagree.

Am I afraid to fail? No, not in the least. I will leap wholeheartedly into things, knowing they might not work out. I'm all, or I'm nothing. I have passion, drive, explosive and furious commitment, even when I have no guarantee of success, payback, or reward. Not only am I not afraid to fail, I not afraid to admit to failing. It may sadden me, but I am not ashamed to have tried, to have learned, or to have changed my mind. I am not afraid to admit I made mistakes, or that - on very rare occasions, obviously - I was wrong.

The situations where I feel become truly awkward are when congratulations or reward begin to come into play. The effort I put into encouraging other women to accept compliments and praise is, in truth, utter hypocrisy, as I often endeavour not to squirm at even a minor turn of the spotlight. Certainly, I crave the honour, the applause, the victory, the thanks - but as I hold them in my hands, I quickly become horrified at the brightness illuminating me.

I have run, fast, from every whisper of achievement; I have sabotaged, or failed to capitalise on, every moment of success in my life, certainly when it has come to any kind of innate talent and creativity.

I studied filmmaking, an overwhelming love of mine; a passion so deep I could breathe it twenty four hours a day and never become tired of it. I would write and edit and produce and direct, and consider every tiny project to be some kind of Scorcesian masterpiece. I made films for coursework, films for myself, and films for competition. I worked with my deepest soul. I was shortlisted, and subsequently runner up, for a BBC Drama Award. There ended my filmmaking career.

I love to write. Yet, I'm sporadic and inconsistent with it. I once had a poem published, and immediately after, I began to shy away from poetry.

I once came second in a short story competition, never wrote another again. Plays, songs, screenplays, novels. Articles, essays, research, criticism, opinion pieces and editorials. I completed a Master's degree in journalism. I applied for precisely zero jobs in the field of journalism or the media.

I started four blogs. The most recent was the most work, the longest-running, and the most popular and successful. It is to here I return; I deleted it, but downloaded it; all those precious words I could not bear to lose. Resurrecting, after a lengthy mourning period, the loss of a dream.

I love writing, I love words, and I love page-based expression. So, why would I actively avoid pursuing something I love so dearly?

It boils down to this: self worth is the cornerstone of ambition. If you do not consider yourself to be worthy of 'success', even when you seek it, you will end up avoiding it. You will become afraid of it. You will run from it, and at times, you may even sabotage yourself. This will keep happening until the day you recognise your calling is not validated or invalidated by your perception of whether or not you deserve recognition. Your own skills and talents, in whatever arena they lie, explode with the joy with which you create, with the consistency with which you pursue, and with the pieces of your unique soul which created it. It is the you in your art that counts. You will keep running from accomplishment until that moment when you are ready to face up to the fact that you are sparkling in ways you might not have even realised.

Ridding myself of my fear of success begins with accepting I deserve to be successful.

Maybe I'll get there ;)