The moment I start to think about doing something new (and mostly important) – a whole squad of expectations bursts onto the scene (like Micah Richards did many times), setting up camp in my head before I’ve even taken a single step. My brain hitches a ride on a time machine, races into the future, designs the “perfect” outcome and then presents it to me as the only acceptable reality.
And me? I’m still back here, figuring out which foot to put forward first. Such self-imposed blueprints with vivid imaginings of how things should go arrive so fully formed that any actual action feels… insufficient. Why must I try if I can see how it won’t measure up to the impossible ideal I’ve conjured? It’s a strange kind of pre-emptive failure. The irony isn’t lost on me – the desire to do something well stops me from doing anything.
How I must unfreeze is still a work in progress. I do acknowledge these expectations and how helpful they can be. But I am yet to understand how I must process my emotions. Easier said than done, of course, but I’m trying.
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