I’ve been having a lack of confidence issue since last summer. Constantly being told you’re not quite good enough takes its toll. All the times you see an opportunity that sounds so much fun and you discover you’re not allowed to do it because you’re too old.
And then recently, I’ve been reminded of how we don’t know how much time we have. My friend and ex-work colleague keeps telling me I’m a writer. I’ve always wanted to write. I’ve wanted to write books for children, and I’ve wanted to write my own story. I was obnoxious enough to start writing my autobiography when I was 16.
Granted, a lot of things had happened to me by the time I was sixteen, there was a lot of awakenings between the age of 15-16 that made that year quite a poignant one. When I was standing over a river ready to jump into it when I was 15, I heard a voice that told me I had to live so I could help other people who have been through similar situations to me.
I walked home that day shaken and changed.
That was before I’d even learned the half of it.
I think when I was a teenager I just thought I had all the time in the world, but the other part of me just assumed that one day I’d be a grown up and have it all sorted.
I’m 31 now, and I have my life less sorted now than I did when I was a teenager!
That quote from Oliver Wendell Holmes scares the poop out of me.
Am I going to die with my music still in me?
And then the bigger question – what is it that I have to share?
Then the scary part – does anyone want to hear it?
The fear that the answer to that last question is ‘not really’, is what stops me from sharing. But I think that’s probably wrong and silly. I think way too much about all the things that people might be thinking and I over-analyse way too much and it definitely stops me from putting myself out there.
And when I finally do and I get rejected, it makes it that little bit tougher to build up the courage to try again.
But I should.