Because writers might on occasion contend with insecurities, Alex J. Cavanaugh founded an Insecure Writer's Support Group for bloggers. We’re posting monthly, exposing our insecurities and/or offering support. This is our fourth "meeting." Please visit Alex's blog to learn what others are grappling with. You may find you're not alone and may also glean precious words of wisdom. My post, on the other hand, is a rather strange monologue that I hope you'll forgive.
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I’m sweating grenades here, as I stare at my watch. My blood pressure’s soaring and the walls are closing in on me. How is it that this stale and stuffy group therapy room gets smaller every month, and where the *bleep* are the brownies?
I knew I’d need a crutch in addition to chocolate, so I invited a guest. Alex, I hope you don’t mind. He doesn’t fit in with my insecurities. In fact, he’s the opposite. But I desperately need him. Looking at my watch: He’s already 10 seconds late. That’s it. He’s dissing me. I can’t wait any longer! I start pacing, pulling out my hair, tossing off my shoes and socks and chomping my toe nails. You did bring the chocolate, right? Okay, I'll try to wait. I’ll give him 6 seconds, but only because they say he’s really, really good. And I’ve realized just how much I crave him lately. See, I’m working on something very big and extremely long. I’m stretching my skills, pushing my comfort zones, and I need him to get me to the climax of my efforts, or even just into some juicy foreword. Instead, I keep defaulting to my less helpful but highly satisfying patterns of soliciting instant gratification. I do little jobs, receive praise, and it's good for me. You know? After years of doing it that way, it’s a pretty organic process.
On the other hand, this guy I invited never looked attractive. I haven’t felt inclined to take him in, much less keep him around for any real length of time. All my *bleepin* insecurities get in the way of that. “I Don’t Know What The Hell I’m Doing,” in particular, loathes the dude and won’t even be in the same room with him. Yet “I Don’t Know...” has always been there. We're pretty tight. I'd be lost without him. So it’s been hard, really hard to switch gears.
Then again, I’m unsure what it’d feel like to actually have him. Blushing: I’m a virgin to him. But this group is all about getting things out in the open, right? So you don’t mind if I have him in this room, do you? It’s purely experimental and could be interesting to watch. I promise we won’t make that much noise. And did I mention how much I need him? Now where is Patience? I can’t stand waiting for him!
Same fish tank. Nemo swam away, and this orange-purple one's going into hiding.
