2023 is more than halfway over, and my New Year’s resolutions are going horribly. Everything that I’ve wanted to focus on, I haven’t been. I’ve been at the whims of my own anxieties, tossed about in the sea of my own fears.
It’s a familiar cycle that has played out before:
Me: *receives a work email at 10pm*
Anxiety: You better respond to that right now. If you don’t, your coworkers will think that you suck at your job and you’ll get fired and Favorite Partner and Beloved Mentor will hate you and wonder what they ever saw in you in the first place and it will be humiliating and sad and pathetic and very, very public.
Me: But I’m trying to work on my book proposal…? It’s important to me? It’s something I really want to do?
Anxiety: Please. Your book proposal is still a blank page. You’ve already screwed it up. Don’t screw up your ACTUAL JOB, too. It’s all you have.
Me: Oh, god, you’re right. I’m a failure. I’ve been failing at everything. At least responding to this e…