Most of the time, I’m very happy being me. I have a pretty wonderful life: my beloved is damn near perfect (he even does BOTH our insurances & taxes!). As are my sons, my DIL, my grandson (possibly the most perfect of all…). My sisters are my best friends; my nieces are amazing; my nephews love me dearly. I’ve had a fulfilling career — even my cat is great!

And then I begin to compare something — it can be anything — to someone else, and I falter. To be honest? I wince. Tuck my fragile beginner’s heart deep within dark & shadowed recesses, and worry. And feel inadequate.

I just applied for an artist’s fellowship & residency. Thankfully, I’ve already submitted my application, or I’d be second-guessing everything from my writing samples to my resumé!

Now please remember: I’ve been writing for a verrry long time. All my life, really. I have multiple degrees (2 in writing, for cryin’ out loud!), and this still  terrifies me. This feeling that I won’t be picked (& to be honest? I probably won’t!), that I’m once again the last picked for softball…

It’s silly, when you see it in others: this reversion to 12 years old. The fear that you’re not good enough, that no one will ever love you. But when it sneaks up on your battered beginner’s heart, cold tendrils of fear curl tighten. You can’t breathe well. And you’re once again flinching from the ‘recognition’ that you aren’t good enough. Won’t ever be good enough.

Even if you have three degrees (2 in writing!), and teach the subject! Even if you’ve been breathing — trying to remember what’s really important — for decades.

Just sayin’…