Today I was going to write a whole post about gardening. I even wrote most of it. However it wasn’t good enough.
I am so very hard on myself. I don’t think this makes me unusual.
I have been writing a book for over 3 years, same book. It’s not good enough.
Underneath my happy-go-lucky, devil may care attitude, I am a perfectionist. Everything I do must be perfect; otherwise I have failed, miserably.
I am excited that some of the seeds I planted on Sunday are sprouting. I am also worried that others have not. I know deep in my soul, some seeds are bad, and there is nothing I can do about that. And I know I will still feel like I’ve failed when some of the seeds I’ve planted do not become plants.
This has led me to not attempt many things I’m pretty sure I would be good at, because I may fail. I may fail.
If I fail people will know I failed and then I will be embarrassed. Embarrassment is perhaps the thing I fear the most. I don’t fear dying. I don’t fear public speaking. I don’t fear heights. I fear embarrassment (and snakes, but that’s a whole other story).
I read an article about a study conducted in the New York Public schools by researchers from Columbia. The long and the short of it is that praising children for being smart can actually hinder a child’s ability to try things. I would say I’m the poster child of this study. Nobody has ever argued that I’m not smart. My IQ proves I’m smart. If intelligence were the only factor, I should be one of the most educated people in this country. And perhaps I am.
I read constantly. I remember most of what I read and yet, I do not have a Bachelor’s Degree. I attended college –multiple times. Each time I did reasonably well. And each time I quit.
So I am intelligent. I enjoy reading and researching. I enjoy writing. All of the things that makes for an excellent College Student. And yet, I cannot seem to finish my degree, my book, my post about gardening and many other things I start.