I’ve felt like a fraud sometimes lately. Because the things I’m trying to do aren’t yet done. It’s a vulnerable place to stand, and my defense mechanism in such circumstances is to preempt, and then inhabit, my harshest critics. So sometimes I declare myself a fraud, and suggest I climb back in my hole.
I’m trying to create a sustainable and fulfilling life for myself. I left a comfortable route and started trekking through virgin land. An exciting and courageous endeavour.
But I haven’t found what I’m looking for yet.
And it sort of feels like the time for this exploration was decades ago. I squandered those years on following other people’s ragged paths, so now time is shorter than it could have been. In fact, I might be racking up a debt.
So, I’m on borrowed time, and if I could just find something to dig up and show for my efforts I’d be okay, but I don’t know when I will.
I enjoy being here – I would happily spend my life out here. But the guilt of it not being worth it is creeping in again. I’m having to ship in resources.
I know it’s a phase. An embarrassing phase I have to go through if I want to reach any genuine success in my life.
Because the trodden paths are simply not for me. I have known and ignored that over and over again, just to avoid the insignificant humiliation of making an unusual choice and not being immediately and demonstrably rewarded for it. Silly little dust mote.
But I won’t climb back in my hole, this time. I can’t – it’s now or never. I will cringe, and I will brace, and I will fuck it all up, but I won’t back down until there’s really nothing left. There is no other choice to make.