I can feel the same old conflict building within me as I try to make a decision upon which my ideas about myself bear heavily. And up rise the fearful questions. What do I need to do to be enough? Am I doing enough? Am I enough? Which option gives me most right to exist?
Really, Yve? Really? Still? Give it a fucking rest and make your decision. Do you really think it matters that much anyway? Who are you to matter so much?
The only person it matters to is me. So I should make my decision based upon me. But I don’t trust myself.
I let my trust in myself be eroded over the past few years, and I’m not totally sure how to get it all back. It’s a frustrating problem. It causes me to flip-flop through life, never able to make the leap into something that may well make my heart sing, because I get to the edge and then freak out that it’s just unforgivably fucking stupid. Because I’ve made fucking stupid leaps in the past. The only leaps I’ve really made have been fucking stupid. The net did not fucking appear for me. The ground did. Fucking crash. Fucking ow. Fucking why would I fucking do that again? Fucking stupid.
Yet I’ve made half-hearted leaps that turned out beautifully okay. There have been times where I’ve gotten to the edge, mangled and exhausted, and simply rolled off thanks to a slight breeze, only to be caught by angels and carried to a safe place. Imagine what could have happened if I’d used my own wings.
I can make both cases. It makes no difference. They come from different places. There is no compromise. It’s one or the other. And I know which one it has to be.
I can’t give up on the good old fucking stupid leap. I don’t have it in me. So I need to stop hobbling myself with second guessing and rational deliberating. But how?