Writing, avoidance behavior, and what's really going on there

In the wake of the weekend's festivities (the Locus Awards, to be specific--which included the company of many most excellent folks), I decided that because I was pretty peopled out, rather than going to meet the usual suspects for writing this morning, I'd stay home and write by myself, well, in the company of the usual pussycats. But here's what's happened so far:

--I've done laundry
--I've washed the dishes
--I've paid some bills
--I've researched how to properly thin carrot seedlings (because the balcony garden grows apace)
--I've prepared a bag of stuff to donate to Goodwill, which I'll be visiting later today

And every time I've gotten myself to sit down to write, I've popped up again like a jack-in-the-box to get something to eat.

Hmmmm.

That's self-medicating behavior. That's insecurity and unhappiness. Mostly, what it is, is not believing in myself. Not believing that the time will be well-spent. Not believing that, once the work is done, anyone will want to read what it is I've written. There's been lots of rejection the last couple of years. In my own head, my hyper-critical self keeps saying that this project is really a pretty midlist sort of idea, nothing that will really break out--what's the point of the exercise?

Years ago--we're talkin' years here--bravado111 said to me that I get in my own way better than anyone he's ever met. See above and witness the getting-in-the-way behavior. But it's outward. The getting-in-the-way behavior is really the stuff that happens in my head. That's the real toxicity. Even writing this post is avoidance behavior.

I don't know how I get out of my own way except to sit down and do the work.

I want to want this so bad that I can't get in my own way. I want to believe it will be worth it. It's always a fight for me.

On with the fight then.