Growing up I knew two dads (though there was just one man). There was the one who would praise my achievements to his buddies, brag, boast, puff up and strut like a peacock, so to speak, and in general embarass me. The other was private, and in anger (there was a lot of anger, and yelling) I would hear how I was worthless and going to end up in a ditch somewhere, or that I was an ungrateful brat. There was no denying the two sides to my dad, and though I could at times predict when his anger would come, I was never quite sure, which meant the idyllic moments of sweetness and love were always tenative.

Sadly (because I should know better by now), I have let those predictions of failure over-run parts of my life. I’m aware of it now (sometimes). When I doubt myself, I hear his voice in my head. I hear the certainty of those words which called out every deepest, darkest fear about my inability to be a decent person and the happiness which I couldn’t possibly deserve. Most of the time, I can claim a confidence in life that I know many others still struggle with. I am proud of that. And then when I doubt, I doubt deeply—I tend to have absolutely no faith that I can succeed. It’s ridiculous.

I’m focusing on writing fiction. Last quarter I thought I wrote terribly (forget the A grade I received for the workshop). I’m feeling not so much a writer’s block, as a deep down doubt in my ability to imagine something new, and to get the words down so that they are believable, and make it something worthwhile to read. It is like there are two voices in my head: one telling me that I’m worthless, uncreative, and unoriginal, and the other telling me that the first voice is wrong and I can do this. I’m fighting for that second voice, but at moments it can be so easy to believe the doubts, to believe in my ultimate failure.

Just earlier today I wrote about trying for your dreams. I believe in that completely. And now, I write a cautionary post. It can be easy to give up. Don’t do it. I’m going to keep fighting these damn doubts. You do it too.