I wish

I wish, just once, I could see what you see.

You tell me I am talented, that you like what I do. But I struggle to believe it. It is a fight to believe it.

I’m not looking for validation here, comments are off, I just need to say it.

I wish I could see what you see.

Occasionally it comes. In bright flashes, when the layers and layers of self-doubt and carefully applied filter of self-critique, of ‘not good enough’ fall away for a while. It is happening more and more, and I love that. It is freeing me. I know I am loved, and the special connection I feel right now, to life, to love, to that creative spirit that is so much a part of me: those things are helping me to see what I am doing without judgement. It helps me to see the goodness in what I do, not perfect but still worthy. The fact that I am writing at all, painting at all, shows me that this is changing. That I am shaking off these heavy restraints.

It feels wonderful, those moments of release. Pure being where I don’t think, I just do and words and lines and colours flow out like blood from a vein, life onto the page. I just live it and I look and see with clear eyes that I have created something beautiful.

I am getting there.

But it is a reflex. To hate. To fall back into patterns of thinking where that quiet, persistent, nasty voice that lives deep down and hidden finds a way to make itself heard.

It whispers failure, whispers defeat, whispers what a disappointment I am, what a fraud.

Perhaps I am just tired tonight. I am just tired.

I want to believe. In me.

I want to switch that voice off, once and for all. I want to be free of it. Especially now, on the threshold of so much. When it is all beginning, FINALLY getting exciting.

I don’t have time for it. It is holding me back and I despise myself for it. I am irritated by it’s incessant yapping.

I am trying so hard. Why can’t I just let go?

I give it voice here, the fear. I release it here.

You will not control me any more.