This has not been a good week, for a variety of reasons, none of which I'll bother you folks with. The upshot has been a two-day cloud of despair that's been hanging over me and, among other things, resurfacing all my doubts and fears about the worth of my work.
Well, no, that's not it. My work is something I feel pretty good about, by and large. My doubts have to do with the suspicion that I am exactly the right combination of neurotic and stubborn to assure that I will never be much more than a talented amateur. Part of me is okay with this. The other part is taking the opportunity to indulge in a bit of self-loathing over what a hugely messed-up dork I am.
(Other people talk about "fear of rejection" in such a way that I always think we mean different things by it, because it seems they mean "it's difficult and hurts my feelings" and I mean "it fills me with soul-crushing, panic-attack-inducing phobic terror." Nothing has ever, ever made this better for me, especially not the notion that, hey, you just have to learn to deal.)
None of which is anyone's problem but mine. Just venting. My apologies. Normal service will resume as soon as we figure out what the fuck that means.