Ever had the feeling that you're just not very good at what you do? And by "do," I don't just mean your job, the position that someone somewhere thought you would bring benefit to by adding you to the team; I mean "do" in the broadest, unhelpful terms - may it be laundry, cooking, sleeping, Tweeting, breathing. And yes, your job can also be included in this category.
[With the flu going around, it's rather easy to consider oneself bad at breathing. We're all Darth Vadar this season. (And, as such, we are all Luke's father. Don't think about that one for too long).]
Back to that feeling: A rather morose sort of, "...woah, really?" that burns like acid on the hotplate of your soul. It's a cement wall of a realization that something you thought you were good at seems to be floundering in a manner that makes you want to run and hide. And so, you do - run and hide, that is. You sprint for the hills and pray that they don't have eyes. You huddle among the mossy tendrils of dread and pity, crying on the inside for a glimmer of what you thought you knew. You do this for a pathetic amount of time that doesn't seem pathetic in the moment, but is clearly so when you snap out of it.
And you do snap out it. Kind of. Perhaps "you deal with it" is a better phrase. You smile and nod and work. But it's still there; the feeling of inadequacy. Take a lot to blast a cement wall.
Like My Little Ponies.
Today, my blast came in the form of a childhood memory and I'd like to share it. It made me smile and think, "Tomorrow, I'll be better."