August has never been my favorite month; it always ends up full of false hopes and disappointments. Well, my parents moved back and I’ve been around somewhat, so it’s not like it’s been void of good things. It’s just so full of failure too.
It’s the last third of the year, so I guess I can talk about my resolution for 2015, the only one I’ve ever kept: to fail. A lot. It’s funny too because I don’t think I’m even failing “properly.” It’s the kind of failure you achieve by not moving. August as a picture would look like me lying still in places: my bed, the floor, the bathroom floor.
I wish I failed by trying. I wish I were the kind of person with failure stories under her skin, but I’ve diagnosed myself with something new: chronic lack of motivation.
Looking back, I’ve never been properly motivated to do anything by myself. I always need other people or things to use as a crutch, otherwise I never ever got anything done. But instead of getting better with hard, consistent practice, I got worse and worse until nothing could motivate me. Not other people and not even my own dreams.
My clear goal is to fight and fix that: to learn proper self-motivation and transform it into a natural skill or habit for life. This will be one of the hardest things I’ll ever have to do, given the paradox, but if I succeed it will be one of the most rewarding things I’ll ever have done.