I grew up in a family of alcoholics.
For many people it takes a lot of time to admit that, but for me, it took a lot of time to even know that. As an adult, when I started delving into 12-step programs, I heard horror stories about what it was like to grow up in an alcoholic family. Parents who frequently got arrested for drunk driving or getting into bar fights. Parents who were physically or verbally abusive when they got drunk. Parents who took off for days and weeks at a time on binges.
If you’re a writer—and especially if you’re a writer who isn’t bringing in a significant (or any) amount of income from your writing—then you probably struggle with feeling guilty a lot of the time. I know I do. Because you see, I’m not just a writer. I’m also a wife and a mother and a good friend to a few wonderful people. I work a day job and I have a side business that I pour my all into. Simply put: I wear a lot of hats. I have a lot of other people counting on me.
And sometimes…okay a lot of the time…my writing gets in the way of that.
But what I probably feel most guilty about is the fact that my brain arranges it in reverse order: The rest of my life tends to get in the way of my writing.
For writers, there are two proven harmful effects of engaging in too much social media. (And let me say first that I’m guilty of overindulgence myself—it’s easy to start out with the intention of quickly checking Facebook and Twitter and then get sucked into a black hole and come out dazed and woozy on the other side.) But if you can keep these two harmful things in mind before you even go in, your chances of coming out unscathed are much better.
In all of my work with INFJs, INFPs, and Highly Sensitive People—all of who are also writers and artists and empaths—I run up against the same creative block again and again. It’s the problem that won’t go away for us. The thing that haunts us at every turn. It is arguably the most destructive and self-sabotaging limiting belief in the whole grand universe of limiting beliefs.
For the longest time I had major problems doing revisions on my writing. It seemed so easy for everyone else. Why was it so hard for me? Of course, I also had trouble writing. I hardly ever experienced that state of “effortless flow” everyone talked about, in which the words just magically spewed out of me down onto the page. For years—a lot of years—I felt like something was wrong with me. I felt like I was a failure as a writer.
Then, I discovered something.