It’s crazy how much of your relationship with yourself impacts your life.

It’s pretty weird to think about how you can only see what the world looks like through your eyes and not anyone else’s, especially in relation to yourself.

I’m pretty hard on myself, especially when it comes to the things I like to do or that I tend to be good at. 

Sometimes I go overboard, though.

I’ve been getting stressed over the smallest things when it comes to writing and performing, especially since those are my two favorite things to do. 

I haven’t worked on my personal writing because of writers’ block. It feels like I won’t produce anything readable ever again, my characters are all the same, the plot doesn’t flow, the dialogue is stiff.

How do people talk? What do they struggle with? How do they see the world around them?

The work reflects the writers’ feelings, and lately the work has been pretty bad. So has the writer.

I had more panic attacks than I’d like to admit because of the fear of dropping tosses in guard, and this week was a low point for sure. All the thoughts that I thought I’d long outrun snuck up on me. 

What if I drop this again? I’m the only one who consistently drops it. Am I dampening the impact of the performance? Would our score be higher if I wasn’t in the show? Can I remember all the changes made in the choreography last rehearsal? Is this enough? 

Am I enough?

It’s good to be critical of yourself. It keeps you grounded. It makes you ambitious. Hungry for praise and achievement.

But that’s the thing. It makes you hungry.

You’re starving yourself mentally. By tearing yourself down you’re withering and losing steam and all the nourishment needed to achieve. There’s a difference between admitting what’s wrong and becoming the final boss in the video game of your life.

I know this. That doesn’t make me wanna chew on the compliments I’m given. 

I’ve always thought I was just ambitious. Now I just feel half empty.