blind spot
June 12, 2015 § 4 Comments
I’ve been thinking about the ways I comfort myself with easy untruths, kind dismissals. The way I talk around my fears and hopes until I push them a little further from the edge of my day, letting myself feel safe and inviting a quieter harm in procrastinating the pursuit of undetermined potential.
They are a blind spot of my making.
It happens predictably and unexceptionally. I skip the pool to hide physical insecurities, old demons of poor self-image. I sidestep confrontation for passive aggressive disinterest. I pass on opportunities from the sidelines of uncertainty. In most cases, the avoidance does less to shelter me from discomfort than it does to feed the voices of doubt that inform remorse.
They are often so habitual, these behaviors and self-talk, that I don’t see their harm until I change the pace or direction of my attention.
It happened most recently when I was perusing social media and noting the accomplishments of so many old acquaintances. Here’s an ugly truth, I remember thinking I was destined for something bigger than them. Years later I was a voyeur to opportunities differed; places I assumed I would travel, careers unexplored, tough goals tackled and public imperfections atoned.
The biggest difference between myself and familiar strangers was a leap of faith into uncertain success at the risk of uncomfortable error. I’ve led a beautiful life, safely.
So today I’m thinking a little about where I tip toe away from the edge, the places I retreat with my dreams into invisibility. I’m shining a light and paying a little more attention to where I disappear; trying to conjure a greater presence of self.
scribblechic 
Still, from our places of so-called comfort, we methodically plan and do our best work. It’s not the applause that matters-no-instead it’s the assurance that this move was the best one we could make under the circumstances
You speak of a purer purpose, but I’ll dare to acknowledge small gestures of validation fortify me for the quieter struggles of self-doubt.
Oh, I struggle with this almost every day. My life has lead me inexorably to this point. I couldn’t do things differently and yet I want a do over when I see what my peers have done with their lives. It feels so hopeless to start anew at my age, but again, I can’t do it differently.
Janice, maybe it is enough to start from where we are.