Writing blog posts takes up about 70% of my time at work. Yet, when it comes to updating my own blog, I can spend weeks at a time writing, deleting and rewriting a single sentence, before just giving up. This is not ideal. At some point, I’d like to stop writing about software and instead work with not-for-profit organisations I’m passionate about - this my attempt to do just that.
Last week, with the help of my therapist, I committed to posting something new every Thursday.
Last week, with the help of my therapist, I committed to posting something new every Thursday.
It doesn’t matter what the post is about, I just need to write something and move on to the next piece. Hopefully, once I get into the rhythm of posting weekly I can focus on a particular niche, develop a fancy new website or start using some social platforms too.
It’s now Wednesday evening and I’m still struggling for something to write about, not that there aren’t plenty of subjects I’d like to tackle – I’m just dreadful at making decisions.
If I’m given a choice, and it really doesn’t matter what the options or stakes are, I’ll anxiously dither and delay until somebody else makes a decision. If that means I’m left with something I really didn’t want, fuck it, it wasn’t my decision and I can’t be held accountable.
It’s very likely that if I was the protagonist in a Pokémon game, you wouldn’t progress past Professor Oak’s house because every time you tried to select a Poké Ball, the only available choice would be, “Maybe we should wait for your Grandson to turn up?”
And that’s just picking a starter Pokémon. When it comes to more open-ended decisions the inability to make a choice becomes really very problematic. It’s why I spend so much of my limited free time is spent waiting for something to happen while nibbling on the block of icing I keep in my bedside drawer.
It’s just struck me that I’m essentially role-playing an NPC in my own life. Which is a pretty bleak realisation to have, but on the upside, it means I can stop agonising over what to say when my therapist asks what I want to talk about this week – which is always the most difficult part of going to therapy for me.
Reliving previous traumas? Fine.
Trusting someone with my deepest, darkest secrets? Easy.
Being self-aware enough to recognise my own problematic behaviour? Simple.
Choosing something to talk about? I’d literally rather stop seeing my therapist, start drinking again and have a full-on emotional breakdown.
It’s now very late Wednesday evening and I’m officially out of time to write anything more meaningful or worthwhile, so I guess this will have to do. I’m actually a little impressed I’ve been able to squeeze out 500 words without having to make a decision.
PS – If you’re reading this, well, firstly I’m sorry that you’ll never get those three minutes back. Secondly, please feel free to suggest something for me to write about next week. It can be literally anything, I just don’t want to be in this same boat next week.
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