I regret one thing. That I didn't follow my dream in my thirties. Forget that I had children, watched a baby die, suffered from post-partum. Those things shouldn't have stopped me from practicing and to be perfectly honest, writing about those experiences probably would have done me some good.
But I didn't and it wasn't those things that prevented me from writing and creating. It comes down to one reason fear as a result of the lack of self-confidence and not believing that I could do what I put my mind to. As a result of my regret I have an unrealistic time line in my head. At almost forty-six, I feel like time is running out.
To continue with my journey, I got myself a job which hindered my ability to write, because of time. As my time feels like it slips away, I feel as though I'm defeated, as if I'm giving up on my dream. Whether that's realistic or not, it sits in the pit of my stomach and keeps me awake at night.
We're hardest on ourselves, we expect perfection and when we don't achieve it, it messes with our minds. It messes with mine as the clock ticks down another sliver of time.
As my emotional half struggles with age and time, my rational side of myself realizes that it all comes down to confidence and a belief in myself. When it wanes, I need to remember the people in my circle, those that believe in me and in my vision. Because if not for me, for them, I keep pressing forward because that's how you push through the lack of self-confidence, let someone else carry you. For me it's my editors. As a writer you have somewhat of an intimate relationship with your editors. They know your books as well as you do, they understand you as a writer because you write what you know, what you feel and they become intimate with your characters as they assist you in crafting your story. I put my complete faith and trust in their words, their thoughts and their support. Without them I may have quit a long time ago.
We're always hardest on ourselves, because we want and we work and we hope that it comes out well. I fight the slivers of time that make up my life not because I fear the future but because I fear the past and time that I didn't allow myself to explore who I was and what I wanted to be. They tick down and I feel that pressure to accomplish something and do it soon.
It all comes down to confidence, finding it and keeping and letting that lead you forward.