So I’ve been thinking about self-doubt ever since writing yesterday’s post. Thinking about that little voice in that back of your mind that tells you how useless you are, what a waste of space, how laughable. How nothing you do is worth anything, how even those things you do that you’re proud of are just flukes, or because of someone else’s skill or grace or generosity. That nasty, insidious little voice which knows just how to press our buttons, just how to hurt.
But it made me think – what does that little voice want? When I worked in primary schools, it was always the kids who were hurting the most who lashed out at others. The kids in the most pain were the ones who caused others the most pain. The ones for whom safety was a rare commodity were the ones who were the most unsafe to be around.
What if that nasty little self-doubt voice is just like those frightened and frightening children? What if all that self-doubt needs is some TLC? What if, instead of giving it a good slap, I take it out and give it what those poor vulnerable hurting children craved: attention and respect and safety and, dare I say it, love. Maybe my self-doubt needs to be taken to the movies, given ice cream or chocolate mousse, allowed to express its hurt and fear and anger, and then put safely and snugly to bed.
I don’t know. It might be a stupid idea. But I might give it a try – it can’t hurt. And it’s certainly a damn sight easier to do than it is to take something I can’t quantify and give it a good slap.