Prose I suppose
As I rest my head on my pillow
I see it
Right there
What’s mine I take
In my slumber
I remember
What’s mine
She takes
I still remember
How she crept in
Tried to make me forget
What’s mine
She took
I remember
What’s mine
I take
In my slumber
She takes
What’s mine
Tries to make me for get
What’s mine
One day I won’t remember
What’s mine.
I wrote this evening because I was struggling to articulate this discomfort I’ve become accustomed to, this feeling of not being enough. Not being talented enough, good enough or disciplined enough. (There’s some truth to that last one.)
A recent conversation with a childhood friend of mine reminded me of the times I used to dream and truly believe my dreams were within reach. I didn’t think about how impractical they were. I didn’t doubt whether I’d be able to achieve them or not. I simply basked in the infinite nature of dreams.
As I’ve grown, I have realised my self-doubt is the only constant. I have become so acquainted with doubt that I’m almost comfortable with it.
Self-doubt is so insidious that it manifests itself as pragmatism, as procrastination and as complacency. It’s crippling and it’s exhausting.
I share this because I have had people tell me how much I inspire them and I feel a fraud because there is so much I want to do that I don’t do because I don’t think I can. I’ve come to realise that I am my worst enemy. It’s not that I’m not talented enough, it’s just that I don’t believe I am.
For those whose dreams like mine, are larger than life. We need to actively work towards our dreams and believe in ourselves. I don’t want us to wake up one day and regret chances we didn’t take.
We need to be more like children, like our child selves that dared to dream and imposed no limits on themselves.
Be more like your child self and remember:
In your own time,
At your own pace you’ll make it.
You are enough.
I’m rooting for us all!
I’ll end this post with my one of my favourite poems just in case you need a little encouragement.
Dreams
Hold fast to dreams For if dreams die Life is a broken-winged bird That cannot fly. Hold fast to dreams For when dreams go Life is a barren field Frozen with snow.
