Stories from a life in progress.

Not up to me

One constant struggle for me is keeping up with recording my finances.  I put off paying bills and reviewing my accounts, because dealing with money is always scary and demoralizing.  It's hard to make myself do it.

In the way that hard experiences give us gifts, though, I'm starting to find the shape of a truth in this struggle which I've never seen clearly before.  It's an ugly truth, a slimy and repulsive fear-monster which I know has been lurking in my guts for a very long time:

I don't believe my efforts have the ability to change my reality.  Not in my financial life, and not in the rest of my life either.

I don't believe, really don't deep-down believe that I can work hard and make any degree of success for myself.  It's not worth trying because it's not possible.  Whatever I get in life is not up to me.  It's up to the kindness or the quackery of other people.  I don't have anything to do with it.

If someone tosses me a bone, I have some work and get a bit of money.  If no one does, I'm out of luck and that's that.  Nothing I can do about it but hope I get lucky soon.

This is bad news for someone who is trying to be a self-employed writer.  (Holy cats, did I just say that out loud?)  Believing that it's impossible for me to succeed without the luck of having someone else hand me what I need is not true and not doing me any good.  This is not how the world works.  I'm disconnected from reality here.

Seeing this is good.  It hurts, but it's good.  When you find something broken, you can fix it.  

... not that I know how.  But I see more clearly what's broken, which opens hope of fixing it.  I'll cling to that for today.