How I Live With Myself

— the fear of sounding stupid

mountains index, wa

In posting anything I make, thoughts, photos, and videos, I have to live with myself after putting it out.

The next day (or hour), I may be in a different mood. Maybe I’ve changed completely and the ideas and perspectives I wrote previously don’t reflect how I see things. I’ve become a different person.

Maybe no one liked my work. On youtube, I can see when people stopped watching and whether people came to watch. When I’m hurt by low numbers–I start questioning my abilities.

As much as I hate it, the response to my work affects my self esteem. These ‘failures’, in not getting enough interested or unsuccessfully coming up with something clever, contribute to how I see myself.

‘Do I sound stupid?’

Of course I do–to at least some in this world. It’s impossible to have 100% approval. Why does it matter?

All I can rely on is myself at the time I create, write, post. If I like it at the moment–it’s enough.

Even if in the past, I hadn’t felt adequate about my previous works, even if I’m skeptical of whether others will like what I create–it’s the best I can do. It’s hard to remember, my work is all it can be. I can’t actually be better than myself.

In putting out anything, I have to prepare and understand that tomorrow, I may not like anything I’ve done. I also have to recognize that maybe the week after or months or years after, I’ll want to potentially distance myself to what I’ve made. It’s part of sharing what you make.

I would like to find a way to derive all self value from myself and not from others, and I do not want my self value to come from acclaim (or lack of).

I want to trust myself. To do so, moving on seems to be helpful. After completing something–move on. Stop thinking about it. Work on a new piece then evaluate whether that new piece is good only while working on it. Once it’s done, forget about it and move on.

At the moment of making, I’m the judge. Whatever happens after is out of my control.

Also, since I’m ever evolving, my work can never be a reflection of me.

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Failing to be Mature Me

converging selves

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a harsh summer

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