It’s like I could have written this:
When I was struggling, I suspected that my failure was due to lack of funds. I’d transcended my blue-collar roots, I thought: I’d been to university; I didn’t work, as my mother might say, “with my hands.” And I blamed myself. I told myself I wasn’t trying hard enough, that I was too impatient. I saw this in my failure to pound out essays after long days at work, and in my weird, jagged career trajectory. I wondered if I was too lazy, too restless to succeed, not cut out for the kind of heels-dug-in effort that creative careers require.
I suddenly remember something I wrote over two years ago. It hasn’t gotten significantly better since and I am far from alone.