Usually, work makes everything go ten times faster. Even four hours can seem like a second when you’re working. But, this is not that story. My work proceeds an inch a day, either I don’t have enough material, or there is too much material. Writing however much you enjoy it is hard if you’re trying to do a good job. As a writer, I wish leads were easier to come by, I wish everyone was approachable and had time to talk to me. Unfortunately, that’s not how things work. All day I’ve been moving further and further away from my comfort zone and have been constantly regretting it.
It’s not like I don’t have work, it’s just that I find myself second-guessing at every step. I have to do things I don’t normally do and it’s making me nervous because I don’t know the right way of doing those things. I guess this is what they call ‘learning on the job’. I don’t like it, at all. Take it from me, you only love your profession until you’re working in it. When you’re behind your desk carrying your education as a burden and you’re expected to apply it, suddenly nothing is glamorous and you find yourself completely lost. You get by, going from one day to the next but you keep asking yourself why it can’t go faster? Simultaneously it dawns on you that your colleagues are faster than you and find doing what you find hard very easy. Automatically you question your worth.
Every step in the project I am involved in is taking more time than I anticipated and it’s killing me. I am starting to feel incompetent but I also know it’s not my fault. If somebody doesn’t want to be of help you can’t force them and if doors keep closing there is not much you can do except keep knocking. I keep telling myself not to give up but at the same time, I am scared to ask for help because I feel like I should already know how to help myself. In a way, it is good because it’s teaching me stuff that will come in handy in the future. I’d say sooner rather than better.
I won’t lie, I’ve been working really hard, I guess there are some tricks of the trade that only come to you with time. I used to think hard work would be enough, jobs are a little more complicated than that, you need to be smart. I guess acquiring people skills is something that only comes to somebody after years of experience. At least I know what I am good at and I am working on the rest. If this was just a job in which I had to write I’d be marvellous at it. But, I need to interact here, get contacts, talk to people I have never talked to before in my life and it’s tough. It’s tough for someone who panics at the thought of human beings. Whether or not I should tell my superiors this can be debated.
I know I’m in a sensitive stage in my life, perhaps I am at my most delicate because my wounds are open and healing. The emotional weight of it is more than I can handle. I don’t want to let it get in the way of my work, but I know in some ways it is holding me back. I’m scared to admit that sometimes doing my work under the effects of my medication is tougher than I make it seem to my colleagues. The words I type go in and out of focus, I sip gallons of water because I can’t think straight and I get constant pangs of headaches. Every mistake I make stresses me out to the point where I am trembling in my bathroom.
Will my superiors understand this? Or will they call it an excuse? So when they say nonchalantly do this and do more, I don’t have the guts to tell them that I’m scared. I want to deliver what is given to me. If you see my plans and my prep you’d know how dedicated I am. But I guess there are certain demons that still stand in my path. There are certain anxieties I need time to overcome. Does this mean I’m doing a bad job or the best job I possibly can? That’s your pick.
I am not moving at a snail’s pace because I want to. All anybody else can do for me is tell me to take a break or not to think about it. It’s all they can do and I don’t expect them to do much more. I just have to decide whether this is something I can actually overcome or if this an overestimation of myself? I have a track record of working myself to the point of disrepair, is this one of those moments? Or maybe I am bogged down by my previous limits. I really can’t tell. While I am not concerned about time running out I am more concerned about doing a good job.
I am not someone who makes excuses, so for me doing something I’ve signed up for well means everything. Is moving at a snail’s pace a bad thing? Maybe it’ll help me do things better. Slow and steady wins the race as they say.