I’ve introduced you to Confidence and Paranoia before, haven’t I? They’ve been particularly noisy these past few weeks. Or at least, Paranoia has. Confidence seems to have buggered off somewhere and hidden whilst Paranoia rides out the waves, erratically giggling with glee. Meh.
I don’t know why Confidence has deserted me either. Nothing happened to offend his sensibilities, there was no great event that led to his downfall. He just…went, and I’ve spiralled into Paranoia’s world of uncertainty ever since. Not only has he brought insecurity, but this time he’s thrown in a lack of inspiration and worse – a lack of motivation too.
Where’s Confidence when I need him? Probably swanning off with some floozy down the lane. He’s a bit of a slut like that. Paranoia’s telling me I don’t want to do anything and you know what? He’s right. I don’t want to do anything, except maybe read. I’ve got no desire to write, no inspiration for blog posts, and the thought of doing a video fills me with…not dread, no, but a tired weight. I want to do it…I like the idea of doing it…I just don’t have the mental energy (sorry Bookshop Bistro folks!). He’s a crafty bugger, that Paranoia.
On Friday, when he was really noisy, I almost deleted my entire blog, unpublished my Facebook page, pulled my collections of short stories from Amazon, and threw my manuscripts in the bin with distaste. I didn’t, and now I don’t want to, but it was close. He knows how to worm under my skin, that Paranoia, and convince me there’s no point in anything.
Of course, there are benefits to all this. I’ve read four books in the last week or so, and enjoyed them all to varying degrees: Ghostwritten by David Mitchell, The Couple Next Door by Shari Lapena, Turtles All the Way Down by John Green, and All Quiet on the Orient Express by Magnus Mills. I’ll be starting my first Joe Hill books tonight too, courtesy of book club. So there’s that. And I’ve enjoyed that, the extra reading, so there are benefits to a complete lack of motivation and drive.
It’s weird, but I don’t normally talk about this stuff. Emotions and what not. I’m not good at letting people in, or even admitting what I’m feeling often. But my lack of inspiration, coupled with a knowledge that my blog is suffering without regular posts led me to just start writing, see where it took me. It took me here, so…you know.
And you know, it comes in waves. I know that soon enough, Paranoia’s going to get tired of taunting me and Confidence will get tired of his floozy and come running back to me. That’s how it always happens. That’s how it’ll happen again. Confidence will shower me with love and I’ll be on the up again whilst Paranoia cries himself to sleep, snivelling in the corner. I’ll find inspiration and, perhaps more importantly, motivation. I’ll want to do stuff again and I’ll be smack bang in the centre of a flurry of activity. And in the meantime I can always read more books, and that can’t be a bad thing, can it?