Self-doubt, self-criticism, negative self-talk, self-sabotage…the names are many, but the feeling is the same. With effort, I can take the insistent inner voice from a shout to a whisper, but I’ll never be able to silence it altogether. The best I can do is to turn down the volume to a point where I can function effectively as a writer and as a person.
In my post on laziness, I described coping methods that invoke the physical laws of the universe—deploying opposing forces to blunt negative impacts. To deal with self-doubt, I sometimes use a method with a similar theme: finding the path of least resistance. It’s easier to diminish the voice when I don’t strive toward the unrealistic goal of vaporizing it. Instead, I remove myself from the echo chamber where it lives and thrives. It’s a bit like a mirror image of the familiar “Mohammed comes to the mountain” phrase. My inner Mohammed walks away from the mountain instead of taking a hammer and chisel to it. The more I create distance, the less I feel overwhelmed.
I’ve also bookmarked vulnerable spots where self-doubt is most likely to ambush me. Fatigue, sadness and loneliness are the biggest ones. Of course, as a human being I will always encounter those three. But when I’m in those desolate places, the lurking, stalking self-doubt only adds to the misery. Self-doubt is self-judgement. When I add it into the mix, I sink like a stone.
When I get trapped, the use of physical metaphor and imagery can help me to navigate the maze. In fact, this morning I was scanning my mind for an experience or memory related to the miasma of fatigue and self-doubt that enveloped me. I zeroed in on a familiar source: a Harry Potter movie. I’ve watched these movies so many times that I can view them in my head as if there was a DVD player in there. The particular sequence I had in mind takes place in Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. Harry is finishing up the second Triwizard Cup challenge, where he performs a heroic underwater rescue and nearly drowns at the end of the task. He struggles to emerge out of the water. Then, out he pops, shivering and gasping for breath. His friends greet him on the platform with sighs of relief.
Epic literary and cinematic drama is an old and treasured friend, and it’s one of my favorite antidotes to emotional turbulence. Checking in with Harry sparked the idea of using natural buoyancy to emerge from the heaviness of self-doubt. The bright surface of the cold, murky water isn’t so far away, and there are companions waiting for me up there with blankets. As I thought of these things, my eyes wandered toward a poem on my desk, whose last word is “persevere.”
Therefore, today’s message is patience. Perhaps I can wait until I can get a good night’s sleep to slay the monsters under the bed. Turn my back and walk away from the mountain of self-doubt. Call the fire truck to shut off the gushing hose that pins me to the pavement. Help is on the way…but wait for it.
Another flavor of self-doubt confronts me most often when I’m writing…or trying to. This voice whispers to me that I will forever lose my way if I don’t meet the goal or work quota—realistic or not—that I’ve pre-ordained for myself. For example, a glance at the corner of my screen shows me it’s almost noon. I haven’t been writing for much more than an hour. Your life as a writer is over, says the voice of self-doubt.
That same inner dialog occurs during the process of writing and self-editing. Having spent professional time as both a writer and an editor, I know that if I don’t keep those two in separate rooms, they will tear each other to pieces. So the task is just to keep my fingers tapping out words, any words, until I make it at least to the point of not giving up. My dear departed mother used to say “Don’t throw the baby out with the bath water.” I am a waterlogged baby, waiting patiently for the self-doubt to wash down the drain. Just breathing and waiting for a friend to hand me a towel.
