Why Do We Give Up On Ourselves?

One of the attributes that sets us apart from every other living creature is the ability to formulate and execute long term goals that fulfill our passions and desires. So why do precious few of us ever see our goals come to fruition? What keeps us from doing the things we really want? I have come to believe the answer to that question, more often than not, is self-sabotage. I am sure that many of us have experienced this: you have a goal or a dream, and before you know it, you are no longer confident in your ability to see it through. We convince ourselves that our dreams are unachievable. But why? Perhaps my personal experience with this will offer some helpful insight. I would like to explore this topic in greater depth in the future, but I suppose you have to start somewhere.

Freedom. I want freedom from the mundane and the repetitive. I want to be free of a demanding schedule that keeps me away from my family. This is a wide, wonderful world we live in after all, and the list of things I wish to do is by no means short. The whole 9-5 thing - not on that list. I would like to make my living as a writer. I want to tell stories and help people. However, success is never a given, and it would be much easier to stay at a safe job than to put myself out there. When I left my job and became self-employed I was told, “That’s stupid.” But it was a good move, and a necessary move. Again the time has come that I would like to pursue something else. Now I have been complimented many times before on my literary attempts. Once, in college, I submitted a poem I wrote as a joke, for my final in a literature class…and I aced it. None of this is said in the spirit of self-indulgence or arrogance, rather simply to illustrate that I have some facility in the literary arts that has been acknowledged by my betters. Yet recently I found myself denigrating my abilities. For context, I would like to author children’s books, and dabble in other genres as well. I decided that I was going to make it happen, and I began taking steps (baby steps) in that direction. I was riding high on this idea, brainstorming how I was going to do it…and within a matter of minutes, I had convinced myself that not only was it an all-together foolish idea, but that my faculties were not in the least up to the task. I went from 60 to 0 in no time flat. I didn’t believe in myself. I had given up before I had even properly begun.

I am twenty eight, and I have some college education. I have never been a career oriented person, and I am no lover of higher education. I found college…boring. Instead of paying attention and engaging in class, I wrote poetry or doodled. I was mostly an “A” student, and I had fairly impressive grades for one who didn’t particularly want to be there. By no means am I a college success story. To this day I have bad dreams about not studying, forgetting about tests, being late for class, and forgetting I was even in a particular class, only to remember when it was too late, and invariably end the semester with a zero grade. In short, I am haunted by failure. The weird thing is, most of the aforementioned nightmare inducing events never actually occurred. Have you ever had those dreams where you are being chased by something, and you are running for your life, but when you try to run, it’s in slow motion? That’s the waking nightmare I live: panicking in slow motion, pursued relentlessly by hellhounds whose names are Inadequate and Failure.

I am notorious for talking myself out of things. My wife scolds me for this, because I will have an idea I’m really excited about, and I will lay out every single step necessary to realizing my goal…then I “rationalize” myself out of it. No matter how good the plan is, or how passionate I am, I will talk myself out of it. The manner in which I degrade myself, discredit my own ideas, disparage my dreams, would constitute emotional abuse if I were to do it to someone else. So why do I do it to me? I have been attempting to understand this, and a while back, I put some of my thoughts out there. When I write, it is often the case that much of what I write is from my subconscious, and I have to analyze my own writing to I understand my thinking and behavior. I did not fully understand it then, and I don’t know, but at least I have some actionable intelligence. The following is what my brain spilled out when I got frustrated enough to try to discern why I was struggling so badly:

“I am just trying to peer behind the mask of my own fear. Pages and pages I have written and still no closer to answers. Who am I? Why can’t I live? Why can’t I be? I take solace in amphiboles; I am lost on purpose. Always marching toward the fight yet it stays one step ahead because I warn the enemy I am coming. So I pursue the inevitable battle that never comes. Never getting close, never out of sight.”

I am afraid. That’s why. That’s the answer, right? What else could it be? I am afraid of failure or looking like a fool. But I don’t even know that I’m afraid of what other people think. I fear what I will think of me. I am embarrassed of myself. I ashamed of myself and full of self-loathing because I judge myself by an impossible standard. That is a game you will never win: trying to be perfect. But I want to be perfect. If I can’t be perfect, I won’t try. I am not perfect, so I give up before I’ve even begun. The thing is, failure is not trying. Ergo, it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy and I get to tell myself “I told you so.” At least I can take solace in the fact that I was right. Cold comfort, huh?

Throughout life, one thing is certain: Failure hasn’t forgotten about me. But I know that now, and I don’t have to listen when it tells me I can’t succeed, or I’m not good enough, clever or creative enough to accomplish my goals. There are more than enough people doing that already; there is no reason to become your own enemy. Not everyone is going to believe in you, that’s why you have to show up for yourself. Ultimately, though, no one else makes the decision for you to give up, you do that.

Reader, if you have benefited in the slightest from my incoherent stream-of-consciousness ramblings, I hope it’s this: take a chance on yourself, you won’t regret it.