Every year, I set myself the same goals. Write more, achieve more, and get out of your comfort zone. And every year I let myself down. It doesn’t matter that I finish another draft of my book, achieve good grades, and push myself too much. It doesn’t matter that I forget about self-care. I still feel like a failure.
Recently, I felt like a failure. I cried on New Years Eve. I sat on the floor, shut the door, and cried. I flicked through library books, and looked at my essay on the screen. “It was rubbish” I thought. “I could do better” I thought. If only I knew how.
Yesterday marked the end of my first semester, and the start of my last one. Yesterday everything seemed so real, and I wanted to cry again. My essay wasn’t the problem this time, life was…I was. When I started uni, I had big dreams and I blogged about them. I was going to finish my book. I was going to get my dream job in publishing. I was going to live in the perfect apartment, in a city that I desperately wished to call home. It all seemed so easy when it wasn’t real. But time has to run out, and right now, the clock is a few ticks away from breaking.
If you are reading this, then you’ve probably felt like me before. But FAILURE never really means that you’ve FAILED. It just means that the time wasn’t right, or that you weren’t ready. And right now, I don’t feel ready. It doesn’t matter how many times I try to convince myself otherwise. I’m scared of failing. I’m scared of getting stuck and never achieving what I set out to achieve. I’m scared of life getting in the way, and looking back to see that I let my dreams go.
When I was seventeen, drowning in anxiety and dreading every day, I managed to wake up every morning and go to college. I attended classes. I smiled and laughed. I did my homework and I tried my best. I was lying to myself, and when I felt better, I told myself that I would never do that again. I was too important to let myself down. I was too important…
For a few weeks, I’ve found myself slipping ever so slightly down. My university deadlines had been catching up on me, and I was running on empty. I woke up earlier, and I ate later. My chest felt tight, and my eyes strained against the bright light of my computer screen. I was tired, but determined as I typed away. I was tired, but proud as I submitted my final assignment. And then I was just tired. I still am.
The problem with burning out, is that it wastes too much time. You work until you can’t work anymore, and then you have to recover. You think you’re helping yourself move forward, but then you realise, you’re holding yourself back. It doesn’t matter that you’ve achieved something, if you’ve hurt yourself in the process.
So, before my thoughts run away from me, and I find myself writing an essay that nobody wishes to read, I’ll leave you with this…
Success, at the expense of your own health isn’t rewarding, it’s damaging.
Failure, at the expense of self-care, doesn’t mean you’re weak, it means you’re learning.
Until next time keep dreaming…
I know that I will be x